


Star Trek: Parks and Recreation

by ToasterBonanza



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors
Genre: Andorians, Becoming a Community, Building Engineering, Caitains, Deltans, Eat Shit Rick Berman, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Federation Diplomacy, Federation civilians, Friendly Canoodling, Gen, Interspecies Relationship(s), Municipal Government, Omar Khayyam, Other, Post-Original Series, Pre-Next Generation, Punjabi Poetry, Risians, Slow Burn, Sufi Poetry, T'hy'la, Tellerites, The United Federation of Planets, Vulcans, betazoids, landscape architecture, urban planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToasterBonanza/pseuds/ToasterBonanza
Summary: The year is 2320 and there has been a long stretch of peace for the Federation, leaving local governments to finally do all the public works projects that kept going on hold. A minor diplomatic complex on Earth, historic for being the first built in the region after the Federation's founding, houses consuls from the founding planets and four other worlds. The building is in need of updating, something the consuls and the Earth administrators have wanted for years.However! The consuls can't agree on anything and have their own weird, complex relationships between each other and their staff, driving off every project manager. So it is up to a young Human post-doc in landscape architecture and a middle-aged divorced Vulcan building architect to go way outside their element and make these people agree on something. Will they succeed? Are Deltans afraid of hail? Does the landscape architect think the building architect is a snack? Come for the aliens, stay for the poetry!





	1. Too Much Too Soon

The lovers

will drink wine night and day.

They will drink until they can

tear away the veils of intellect and

melt away the layers of shame and modesty.

When in Love,

body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.

Become this,

fall in Love, and you will not be separated again.

\--Rumi

++++

The hazy mountains rose up to a dusty blue sky around the city of Quetta where the business of the day had begun just after the morning call to prayer. A mall of patchy grass against the rest of well-kept city complemented the eye-sore that was the row of drab buildings hemmed in by the green. the derelict fountain in the center of the grass, Aafia Jalal waited in her most professional outfit: a smart white blouse, easy white pants, comfortable white shoes, and a hijab of kaleidescoping violets and browns to bring out the color of her eyes. She didn’t want to chance wearing makeup without first knowing more about her new off-world colleague.

Their meeting with the administrator would be soon, and she hoped they could take a few moments to learn about each other before then. Already the summer sun was hot, but the anticipation for beginning the day made her reach for a hand fan. Her first project proposal since completing her post-doctoral work, one she had poured her heart into perfecting. And serendipitously, a project site that was a short train ride from her home in Lahore. This mall would be all hers. Eyes sweeping over, her mind exploded with all sorts of new ideas that she hadn’t put into the proposal but perhaps if she asked kindly they would let her try. She had stopped herself from bringing a trowel just to turn up the dirt and rub it between her fingers.

A figure clad in ochre glided down the white pathway, stepping effortlessly around a child who dashed in front of their path to join some friends in a game of football. Aafia fanned faster to dry off the sweat before straightening up to be as tall as possible. A face the color of desert sand, sharp as if cut from stone. Black hair in a short severe cut with gray around the temples and speckled through like melting snow. “Dr. Jalal.” A firm and gentle baritone.

She pressed her hand to heart and bowed, beaming. The off-worlder knew the local language! “Talok, yes? I am honored to meet you.” She felt a slight blush at his dark eyes full of light. Aafia took wide steps to match Talok’s stride, the tyranny of tall people. Every answer to her question came in short sentences or single words. Had she offended him by not offering her hand? He never looked at her while they talked.

The portico extending around the building cluster guided them to an open-air lobby where a door to a brownish office stood open. The administrator, a sturdy man with a full face of curls, showed them in. Kiran Shah, yes. He had been handling the site for quite some time. He gestured to two chairs.

“This meeting will not take long,” he began in a nonchalant tone, “and I will finish your forms while we talk.”

Her new colleague may not talk. A light remark would help things. “It is such an honor to be chosen to work with a site of such importance. It must have been difficult to select from all the other proposals.” 

Kiran never looked up from his work. “No. You were the only two who submitted.”

Talok spoke before she could. “This appears highly irregular.”

“Yes.”

“How do you explain this?”

When he looked up, his neutral face masked a sublimated aggravation. “Dr. Jalal, Talok. You need to understand. This is a futile project. I recommend you create something based on your proposals, take some time to enjoy the city, and then go home.”

Aafia offered a brave smile. “I love a challenging project--”

"Stop trying to impress me.” Like a hand pushing back her enthusiasm. “Neither of you are qualified for taking on this project, certainly not you, Dr. Jalal. This building houses the consulates from the Federation’s founding planets and four worlds. We needed someone with at least ten years of experience in diplomacy or at least working away from their homeworld. Just because you completed your post-doctoral work at twenty-three does not mean you know what you are doing. But we will make do with what we get.”

“I do not follow,” said Talok. “The submission guidance did not specify this requirement. But you have not asked me to seek a more suitable colleague.”

“You can. If you want.” He added under his breath as he went back to his forms, “Not that it matters.”

She wouldn’t be deterred. “Could you tell us some history of the site?”

Kiran sat back. It was morning, but he already looked tired. “Ten years ago, Quetta celebrated the building’s centennial, first one the city built after the founding of the Federation. No more wars to fight, so they wanted to update the site with a garden and new additions. The project lead was hand-picked for her work in cultural studies of architecture, and every one of the consuls adored her.” 

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “She had a baby, and then her wife had a baby. She took a leave of absence for a year and left the rest of her team in charge. Not that it mattered. Our guests drove off everyone else and could not agreed on a single thing the moment she left. By the time she came back, it was too late. No one could decide what they wanted.”

“But why do we need them at all?”

A long scoff. “It is a long and complicated thing. Quetta owns the building but the offices, in a way, belong to them. The Vulcan office counts as Vulcan soil.” He rubbed his eyes. “We cannot update the building until we get their permission. We cannot get their permission because they are too busy fighting each other. They are too busy fighting each other because they are bored and do not have enough work. And they do not have enough work because we cannot update the building.” His eyes fell to the open door. “They are like children. Terrible, terrible children.” He wore the look of a battle-hardened officer who had seen too much combat.

With Kiran so still, Aafia began to worry that he was having a petit mal seizure.

Talok broke the silence. “These species are highly emotional. I expect members of the Vulcan consulate will conduct themselves without incident.”

Kiran sprang back to life. “As you wish.” He stood up, ready for them to leave his office. "My staff will show where you can work." They stepped back outside under the portico where a hot breeze whistled through. The wind had picked up dust from the sun-baked field and kicked it over the pathways.

"Wait!" Aafia stopped his door from closing. "Could someone give us a tour first?"

Kiran's frustration came closer to the surface. "My staff will be here. I still need to finish--"

"Kiran!" A high, penetrating voice barreled toward them from the far-end of the building section's portico. The owner, tall and clad in an elaborate suite of purple lace so tight it looked painted on, was sauntering over.

A few muttered curses and a glare at Aafia before Kiran responded, "What is it, Holloya?"

The alien's skin was like the color of limestone and very long hair—probably hair?--was piled up, secured with silver and gold fasteners. The alien did not look up from a palm-sized tablet when addressing them. "The toilet is not working in our office."

Kiran growled, "I have already told you that is not possible because it is a Subburaman toilet. There is no plumbing to break."

"We are not using it until you show us what is wrong because there is a smell and I think the seat is broken." The alien looked similar to a human female, but Aafia should keep an open mind.

Kiran's dragged his fingers through his hair. "There is no seat, Holloya. You already know how to use it. And I told you that the smell dissipates when you keep the window open and the door closed."

"If you do not want to tell us what is wrong, we will use the toilet in your office." "No!" Another string of curses before he stomped off. "I am not spending more than two minutes on this!" he barked over his shoulder.

Even after their strange meeting, Aafia held onto her confidence. Another chance for a good impression. "G--" "Stop talking." In a single deft motion, the alien sidled up to Talok while putting Aafia out of the way. "And yes, I am very much female." All of her attention was on the other as she tucked the tablet into a pocket against her left breast.

The first change in Talok's face: a bit of crinkle around his eyes. He took a small step back. "I am the new building architect."

Holloya with her eyes black as a snake's stalked in a circle around him with an unsettling smile. Talok maintained searing eye-contact the entire time.

This felt like a conversation that Aafia could not access. She only knew that whatever they were discussing, they didn't want her to know. She felt small. Nothing in her education had truly prepared her for encountering peoples who were more than human, and she wondered if any of the aliens were ever considered treating her as Talok's equal.

"Well," said Holloya finally as if they had been talking the entire time, tracing a long willowy finger along his shoulder, "come by our consulate when you are done." Holloya meandered back from whence she came. She hadn't even bothered to give Aafia a disrespectful sneer.


	2. The Color of Heaven

Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,  
Asking, «What Lamp had Destiny to guide  
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?»  
And—«A blind Understanding!» Heav'n replied.  
\--Omar Khayyam

++++

First true day of work. Aafia arrived just as the sun peaked out before the mountains. She had the whole site to herself.

Unlike Kiran, the other human staff managing the building did not walk with the same cloud of defeatism and negativity; they cheerfully showed off the complex and its grounds including the myriad of small updates made over the years. The non-Humans? They can be strange but they mean no harm, the staff insisted. They are proud to represent their cultures, and this pride may look mean. Kiran? He does like them, truly. The consulates' staff only make trouble when new architects arrive because the proposed changes to the site are never the same. 

A space big enough for use as a classroom was the place Aafia would call her office: Big windows on two adjoining walls to create a panorama of the grass field, the door leading straight outside to the great portico, a cluster of bare furniture, and miscellany such as two console-based workstations cut into the wall and a lonely cabinet. Stark but clean. 

Without the great picturesque displays of newly-manufactured electronics, Aafia asked the staff to create hard-copies for all site drawings after much cajoling of their ancient printer. She arranged all drawings and figures in the best way she could managed such that they covered up much of the wall with the consoles. To color-cod various parts of the prints, she improvised with a collection of self-adhering buttons and wipe-away ink pens. 

A diagram of the site showed a plot of land shaped like a lopsided trapezoid due to the city trimming off sides here and there to construct things for its people like neighborhoods or new government buildings. The focal point of the land was her current building: flat buildings connected by the portico she’d already seen, creating a quadrangle with the unusable fountain in the center. Along the widest boundary sat a similar flat building designated as residence for the off-worlders and anyone else who visited the consulates for help. Her current task: reconcile the abandoned pieces of previous projects with whatever work had been done so far. 

One of the workstations displayed a helpful guide the staff had provided of all denizens. The Vulcans were Talok’s people, telepathic, and unemotional. The Andorians were blue-skinned warriors who could survive any weather but small cuts could turn deadly. The Tellerites treated argument like a sport and would either complain or insult anyone new, but never take it personally. The Betazoids were another group of telepaths who seemed rude only because they valued honesty. The Deltans were the third telepaths and while generally good-natured Aafia must always take the pills the staff gave her so she could work without distraction. The Risians’ moods changed with the weather because they came from a planet where the weather rarely changed. The Caitains’ cat-like appearance endeared them to Humans and, unlike the others, the entire consulate’s staff came from a single family. Above all, they believed deeply in their cultures’ accomplishments. The changes should be an homage to their seven wildly different homeworlds. 

The first day’s call to prayer. Dawn’s sunlight filled the room. She used the prayer rug the staff had given her as a thank-you. Reflection and gratitude. Breathe. 

“Dr. Jalal.” 

No sooner had she finished did Talok’s voice bring her back the work at hand. “Oh! Good morning!” She popped on her shoes. A second prayer rug laid neatly rolled up atop the cabinet which she picked up to present with both hands. “This is a gift from Kiran’s people.” She knew so little about his people. The meaning of the rug itself would be lost to him, she knew. But could his people even recognize hospitality toward strangers?

Talok carefully took the rug. He turned over the roll to study its weaving and design. “You were meditating before I arrived. I am then to understand this item as a tool for human meditation practices.” 

“Yes,” she said with a slight grimace. When they knew each other better, she would explain what she was actually doing. “We...meditate five times daily.”

“This is a logical practice. Meditation is also important to Vulcans.” He returned the rug to its original place which pleased her as she’d expected him to drop it on the floor. “I shall use this item during my stay out of respect for my hosts.” He walked to the wall with all of her prints—actually, their prints. Both would need them. “Tell me the schedule you wish to keep. I should have been notified that you were working.” 

She frowned. “I do not need you to watch over my work.”

“I do not intend to interfere with your work. However, it is logical that we collaborate on any task, simple or complex. I should not expect you to do work without my help when that will benefit both.” As with the rug, a long silence followed as he absorbed the information. “Your color scheme is adequate.”

The staff told her that Vulcan compliments always sounded passive-aggressive, even sincere ones. “Thank you!” she said brightly. “You are staying in the residence on-site, yes? For fun, use a teal button to show me which apartment you were assigned.” 

Outside the windows facing the quadrangle, she recognized two different species: Andorian and Tellerite. Both were practically pressed against the glass and talking, but she didn’t need to hear them to know they were talking about her. She wondered if everyday would be spent under this kind of scrutiny. Better to look away and ignore them. 

A blue button had been placed atop the little box representing an apartment in the residence building. Talok had moved onto the other workstation to retrieve his files. Was teal an offensive color to his people? What should she do? His people were unemotional, right? Why choose a different color? She should drop it. After all, what difference did it make which color he used? “Why did you use blue instead of teal?” She was never good at letting the little things go. 

He looked at the button. “That is the color you instructed.” He spoke like it was a fact. 

“This button is blue. I asked for teal.” 

This time he did not look away from the workstation. “I did as you asked.” 

She picked up the button she had wanted and stuck it on a corner of the workstation’s screen. “This is teal.” “Yes. I agree.” “What color is the button you used?” “The same.”

Why was he doing this to her? “Talok. Are you colorblind?” Was it even possible for his people to be colorblind?

“Impossible. My eyes are normal. As I said before, both buttons are the same color. Perhaps your own eyes are irregular. Seek medical care immediately.” 

Now she understood Kiran’s frustration. There was nothing wrong with her!...But there was nothing wrong with him either, if he was telling her the truth. So why couldn’t he tell the difference between a blueish green and a true blue? She should try an experiment. Picking up the rug she had just used, she spread it on the nearby table. A pretty rug too but importantly, it had all the majors colors. “Please, I want to know. Name these colors and--” she pondered “--and tell me something on your planet that is the same color.” 

She saw the same crinkle of his eyes from yesterday. “Very well. I will complete this exercise to demonstrate the flaw in your own eyes.” 

Every time her finger rested on a square, the description he gave made his world sound beautiful. “Very pale apricot, the north face of my home. Maroon, a common type of pebble used for paving streets. Translucent amber, brandy as it is made on my planet. Vermilion, a thread for embroidery. Blood-green, my own blood.”

“And this one?” she pointed to a dark blue diamond.

Silence. Then: “You want me to call it blue, so I will call it blue.” 

She pointed to an icy blue diamond. “And this one.” 

“Green. I understand there is a doctor assigned to the site.” She knew she was right! Why couldn’t he see it? Their eyes worked just fine! She couldn’t drop this! She wouldn’t!

“What on your planet is this color?” She kept her finger on the icy blue. 

“Nothing on my planet is this color.” Just as the words left his lips, his eyes twinkled with realization. Now he stopped dismissing her.

Snatching up a handful of colorful buttons, she beckoned him outside. Their audience of two lingered around the window, but their mutterings had grown heated. By a miracle, she was wearing oranges and whites today. Standing against the terracotta wall, she placed a blue button at the point of her nose. “Can you see anything that is the same color as this button?”

His gaze seemed to bore into her. “Yes. The pigments in your eyes.” 

She replaced it with a bright green button. “Now do you see anything that is the same color as this button?”

A long, uncomfortable pause. “No.” At last! Progress! She couldn’t help grinning in relief. 

She held up the two buttons in her palm. “These are two different colors. Right?” A commotion nearby. Glancing over, she realized their audience had started bickering. “But you do not have anything on your planet that is one of these colors. Your eyes see the different colors, but your language does not make a distinction. We are speaking the same language, but we are not speaking the same language.” 

In her excitement, she dropped those buttons but no matter, she still had the others in her hand. “Before asking the consular corps any other questions, we need them to agree on a common color language.”

She didn’t notice how stiff he went when she grabbed his hand until she had already pressed the other handful of buttons into his palm. His dark-eyed stare did not burn but she still felt its heat. Out of nowhere, she felt the same emotional charge of touching a hot stove with a bare hand. 

“Please let go.” Instantly she withdrew and made a series of sounds that never quite formed into a coherent apology. 

“Ignorance is not a reason to punish you.” He stepped back from her, gaze now keenly trained on her hands. “My culture regards skin-to-skin contact as intimate. And we do not express intimacy with people we do not know well.” 

“Of course, of course, of course,” she agreed, blushing furiously. 

By now, the bickering had turned physical. Weapons were strictly forbidden on the site with no exceptions for cultural needs. As a result, the Andorian who had been fascinated by them minutes ago now brandished a dust broom and chased after the Tellerite. Both cursed loudly. Aafia watched them so she wouldn’t have to look back at Talok. 

Aafia was now understanding what she agreed to do. 

++++

Kiran made her promise: if she wanted to do her color experiment, do it without the Tellerites. Aafia felt it was wrong to exclude them, but the administrator’s haggard face overrode any objections she could imagine. They could do the same exercise with their consular corps later. With help from early cultural studies on color perception of each species, Aafia created a series of posters with ten color categories. Everyone just needed to agree on categories. 

At the moment, in the room set aside for her and Talok where she had gathered the consuls and their staff, the color experiment was an utter disaster and she was now questioning her ambition. From the start, the Andorian consul turned to Talok and said, “Control her, sir. We have work to do.” It only got worse from there as the room dissolved into chaos as people began arguing about the actual categories or just complaining about the previous project leads. She stood at the front of the room, wishing her black hijab covered her entire body and face instead of just her hair so she could be invisible and melt into the wall. 

Talok had let her stand alone for some time, and she resented him for it. Now he approached. “We should consider a different approach.” 

“Oh should we?” she snapped. “Well what do you think we should do?”

If he noticed her sarcasm, he didn’t acknowledge it. “We should start with the consul from my own planet. We will speak with each consul and their corps as one unit. The others will wait.” He didn’t wait for her to follow. She hopped after him. 

The Vulcan consular corps chose to remove themselves from the fray. They were part of how the chaos had started by insisting that her categories were wrong and there were seven major colors, not ten. The consul Koss looked at them but kept speaking with his staff. He then addressed Talok in their native language, an obvious sleight against her. 

Talok did not reciprocate. “Dr. Jalal’s categories are correct.” 

Koss glanced at her before responding to him. “Talok, I have represented our planet for ten years. To tell me, now, that there are more categories of colors than I have first understood is--” his tone became gratingly proud “--simply illogical.” 

The number of things he didn’t know or understand could fill Heaven and Earth. Talok persisted. “Have you considered that before now, you did not require more categories?” 

The consul did not have a ready response. Good, now she could handle the others. The Andorians. She could handle them. They were in a heated arguments with the Risians. “Finally!” exclaimed Utyra, the Risian consul who tossed her long curly hair back over her shoulder. “Explain to them that you are missing color categories and that they are blue, not flesh-tone.” She had done it with Talok before. She could do it again. She had to. “Oh, and can you send someone to fetch us some refreshments?”

She was wearing an icy blue blouse precisely for this reason. “This flesh-tone clothing you wear is very strange.” Stay patient. “Find us Dr. Aslan. She was far better and did not lower us to these childish experiments.” Stay calm. “Tell me what you did. I have a word, and now I see a color. Are Humans also telepathic? How are you putting these images in my eyes?” Well that was a start. 

Every conversation went the same way: angry and aggrieved complaints all directed at the two of them when interrupting an argument; nasty remarks about how much better the very first project lead, Dr. Fatima Aslan, was at doing this because she understood diplomacy; comments on Aafia’s general appearance; insults about the experiment; suspicion over the proper number of categories; fascination with the color categories; cautious acceptance that things such as blue did exist. All except the Deltans who Aafia could not speak with at all as she always got the impression that they were naked due to being hairless. She had to let Talok handle them—they were genial and agreeable, but when she wasn’t looking at them, she got the distinct impression of condescension because they did not understand what the problem was. 

It took all morning, but by noon she stood back at the front of the room and said, “Can we agree to these color categories?” 

“There is still ambiguity on the color you call blue,” said Koss. “We cannot agree on wavelengths from the visible light spectrum.” 

Utyra let the words slide out of the side of her mouth. “Your species still does not have proper words for any color with a wavelength greater than 800 nanometers or less than 500 nanometers, so I am not surprised that they are the reason for this lack of agreement.”

Talok answered before the consul could. “I propose that we call this color Aafia.” Picking up an old electric torch, he shined it in her eyes without warning. “The pigment closely matches the example we have given of the color. We may adapt as we see fit. At the moment, we may use her as our template.”

Thoughtful murmurs. She couldn’t see who was talking because Talok would not get the light out of her face. Eventually someone said, “We agree to these color categories.”

She rubbed her eyes to adjust them while everyone filed out. For the first time, the consuls were thanking both of them and not just Talok. They had accomplished something, for once. When the last one left, Talok started pulling down the posters. “This was a fascinating exercise, Dr. Jalal. Thank you for creating this opportunity.” 

“Oh, thank you.” She wanted to take a nap. “I hope the Tellerites will be much easier.” 

Like the answer to a prayer no one made, the Tellerite consular corps came banging down the portico. “Dr. Jalal!” shouted the consul. “Dr. Jalal, we must speak with you immediately!” 

Upon hearing them, Talok replaced the posters he had taken down. Aafia smoothed out her hijab and clothes to look a little less tired. “Good morning!” There were still a few minutes left of the morning.

“Dr. Jalal!” The Tellerite consul flared his pig-like nostrils. “How dare you hold a meeting with the other consuls and do not invite me or my staff! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from our new project lead, not from you and not from your colleague! This is unacceptable! And this!” He pointed to the posters. “What is the meaning of this?”

She had practiced with the colors. “It is an experiment to establish a common color language--”

“I know exactly what it is!” he snapped and then began to pout. “Do you have any idea how hard we have worked to convinced the Vulcans that they were right about blue not existing?”


	3. You Talk Too Much

Suddenly one day you came,

Surprised,

Time stood still in my room,

The sun about to set,

Paused,

Fated to return,

The sun forgot its fate.

The cosmic order complained

\--Amrita Pritam

++++

Only in the morning did Aafia notice the first chill of autumn, nipping at her ears when she stepped off the bullet train from Lahore. Since the first day, she had been working so hard on the project that she couldn’t think about finding a place of her own in Quetta, let alone pack up whatever she needed. Life with her parents had become easier when she came home everyday and could keep her eyes open just long enough to eat dinner. They sometimes forgot she was an adult, and her sister did everything to remind them that she was always “the little one.”

Three long months, but they were making progress. Conceptual site models re-drafted, a map tracking every change since the Dr. Aslan’s first project, hydrogeography maps, site inventories from each iteration of the project—finally, she was able to visualize her proposal with this information.

The end to another day of work. Aafia collected up her purse from under her desk. “I think I will be coming in early tomorrow. Oh, do you know where to find this restaurant?” She showed him the name she’d written down.

Talok examined the name. “Yes.” A head tilt. “I shall walk with you.” They had found the ease of colleagues who shared a space constantly. This was a day where they’d rarely spoke a word despite spending almost all of it in the same room.

“Asyhl invited me to dinner.” The Andorian consul recently begun approaching her when she lunched, asking about the project with the occasional question about her life. Every sign pointed to a genuine curiosity. “He said that he wanted to discuss the project in greater detail as I never speak with him for more than a few minutes during the day.”

Brow winkle. She knew that was one of his expressions; when she knew what to look for, he became easy to read. “Curious. He did not mention this meeting to me.”

“Then you should stay to eat with us!” Still acquainting herself with the aliens, she wasn’t yet comfortable meeting with any of them by herself. “We can discuss together, all three of us.”

“I shall record notes.” He collected his own shoulder bag.

Already the wind was losing the sun's heat, teasing around the folds of their clothes as they walk. Shadows fell over the mountains and crept toward the city. People everywhere getting ready for the end of the day. A handful of children shouted for their attention before a nearby adult shushed them for yelling questions at them.

Talok, to her surprise, approached the gaggle because he recognized them. He did mention his own children everyday, but she thought he was a very stern father. She hung back to see him gently chide the children about their conduct and then ask about what they learned that day; this must be a ritual of his. She didn't want to interrupt, no matter how long it took. Even when he excused himself and the children gave a chorus of goodbyes, it felt deeply gauche to ask about it. He gave no details, confirming her instincts.

The consul didn't see them coming down the street. Aafia got the chance to see him stand resplendent in green glittering robes heavily adorned with jewelry, a departure from the black tunic and trousers he and his staff wore. The wind ruffled his snowy hair. Asyhl saw them both, made a series of strange expressions, and then settled into a smile Aafia still had trouble getting used to. All of the aliens had off-putting and weird smiles—well, save the Vulcans since they never smiled.

"You have brought Talok," he announced, "and his clothes are flesh-tone. No, they are a light Aafia color." His smile broadened in her direction, exposing blue gums. She managed to not grimace.

"They were made by a local artisan," commented Talok. She didn't think powder-blue flattered him. "The preliminary results of our experiment indicated to me that repetition yields retention. Integrating these concepts into the things I use everyday has helped my retention." His style of clothes had not changed--still wearing caftans and gigantic shawls and fastened robes—but for the past three months he wore every possible combination of blue, green, and purple that he could find or someone would allow him to wear in public. Not all of them were smashing successes.

"Let us enter. I reserved a table." They walked into the quiet restaurant to find a table which could only comfortably accommodate two people. Well that was odd. The server grabbed a third chair upon seeing them, and the consul ordered mint tea for the three of them. "I have noticed a subtle chemical burn from mint. I find it gives your planet's food a better flavor." From his tone, he expected Aafia to take that as a compliment or at least be impressed.

Tablet and stylus in hand, Talok began writing. A nod from him, and Aafia began. "Were you interested in discussing changes to the buildings or to the grounds?"

"We should discuss you first. There is very little I know about you." His eyes darted between them. "Either of you. I do not even know the names of your—what is the word? Lover. Spouse? No, no, it is lover."

Aafia silently pleaded to her colleague for help. "Oh, I do not have one," she answered with a frown. "A spouse I mean!" The question reminded her that she hadn't had a boyfriend at least since her post-doctoral work. "Is this a concern? I know so little about your culture."

Consul Asyhl smiled while Aafia averted her eyes. "No, no! Not a concern at all." The mint tea arrived. "I do understand that your family is in Lahore, yes?" Before she could offer, he poured their cups to the brim. "I have visited the place of your birth, and I find it compelling. It is good that you are close to your parents. Family is important."

"Yes." Shift the conversation. "The project. You asked me about the fountain fixture today. In our current plan, we will take away the fountain. Were you concerned?"

"Oh yes, yes. The fountain." Already he poured himself a second cup of tea while Aafia waited for hers to cool. "You wanted to repurpose the slip of land, yes? I offer a replacement: in the interest of the project, my planet will supply the stonework." He leaned closer over the table. "How do you intend to pave walkways? I offer a solution: my planet will supply tiles."

"Oh, Consul, that is a generous offer." Something didn't feel right. "We were told before that all materials for the project must come from the local area to maintain our project timeline."

"Time is relative." He reached into the folds of his clothes. "A gift for you." From the folds, he produced a crimson brooch shaped liked a weapon. "It has been fashioned after the ice-cutting tool used on my planet. If you are ever summoned to duel and you are without a weapon, this brooch can be your weapon."

The brooch was much sharper than she had expected. Wearing it may tear through her clothes if not her skin. "Thank you, Asyhl. I do not know what to say."

The high voice of the Betazoid consul Holloya eliminated whatever her next thought had been. "Good evening!" she sang, marching through the restaurant to their table. She was dripping with lace and jewelry. "Asyhl, what a wonderful thing you are doing, inviting our new guests to an evening of entertainment! I am certain you meant to invite me. You simply forgot!" Aafia could not read his strange smile as Asyhl replied, "Yes. I did forget. How. Kind. You noticed."

Holloya snatched a chair to squeeze into their now very crowded table, sitting herself between Aafia and the other consul. "We do not spend enough time together, don't you agree? I know so littel about you. And yes, of course, I could simply read you and learn much about you, but that is a very bad thing in my culture to do to someone who is not telepathic. You understand? Of course. You are not telepathic and cannot stop me from reading you. Therefore, you cannot consent to being read. You understand. Of course you do. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Talok studiously took notes and conversed, even able to write without looking at the tablet. Something was not right. Asyhl kept trying to close distance between them, thwarted each time by Talok who did things like pour tea or moved the tablet between them.

Holloya's fingertip followed the stitching of Aafia's sleeve-cuff. "You were discussing walkways when I arrived. Have you considered computerized walkways? They could display different patterns or messages." She leaned over to whisper, “This is common on my planet. Perhaps you would be interested in receiving plans. My planet could also provide you with engineers. You understand? Of course you do.”

“Yes.” Aafia pulled away her sleeve. “Hm, have you discussed with Kiran?”

“We will discuss with him, I promise!” Her chair scraped the floor as Holloya sidled closer. “I have been consul here for so long, and yet I have never learned how to make that beautiful art that your people put on your hands. Does it stain the skin? Perhaps you could teach me.”

Aafia remembered they talked about other things before another interrupted: Mwit, the tawny-furred Caitain consul. At that moment, the server bringing them more mint tea insisted they move to a larger table and further away from the others dining. In the shuffle, Mwit outflanked everyone to split Aafia away from Talok, breaking their defensive position. Unlike the other two, she looked dressed as she did in the office. But her questions made the intent of the others much more clear: “I understand this is a discussion of how we may contribute to Consuls’ Residence building? My eldest daughter has drew up plans for our segment of the residence after reviewing the previous plans which I think you will find exquisite.” Aafia didn’t have time to stop Mwit’s hands from taking out a tablet to show off said plans.

Allah, the consuls wanted to get what they wanted and shut out each other. They all wanted their culture to be dominant in the design. Knowing it was a violation of his personal space, Aafia yanked on Talok’s collar to get his attention so they could get away from the tablet. She found the nearest corner before she blurted out in a too-loud whisper, “I think they want to bribe us!”

Talok did not bother with whispering. “They also mean to seduce us, if I have correctly inferred their intentions.”

Why is it always so hot around them?! “How! Why! Are you sure?”

The eye-crinkle. “They are few reasons to bring one’s body so close to another’s. One of them is to reach some sort of physical intimacy. Our position is tenuous. We must let the consuls know that we are abiding by our own plan while also not transgressing on our working relationships with them. They must respect our boundaries. We will not bend to their influence.”

“Right! Yes! We tell them that they can make formal submissions of their needs and ideas! No gifts!”

“Correct.”

“And we will do it right now.”

“I agree.”

“Right!” They turned around to find the Deltan consul, Ianiot, at the table chatting with the others and the new occupant of what would be the seat between them. Prolonged time around the Deltans, even with the medication, made Aafia a little restless until she came home. She knew that he looked little like the way she liked her boyfriends: hairless, very round face, soft body, and much too pale. Kiran had even recommended keeping a picture of every Deltan in the office to help desensitize her. It had helped, but it was taking time. Now seeing Ianiot--the warm amber light glinting off colorful beaded head-covering, the rust color of his purple-embroidered clothes putting a healthy color in his cheeks, his eyes as bright as his teeth were white—she felt her knees weaken. “Well,” she sighed. “We will tell them a little later.”

“No, we must tell them right away.”

“Right, right,” she answered vaguely, taking Talok’s sleeve to walk him back to the table. She couldn’t help her beaming smile as she sat them back down. One thing she didn’t notice was that Talok’s eyes had narrowed greatly. She’d recognize this as a devastating glare on his part.

Ianiot, unlike the others, meant to speak with both of them. While the others consuls were speaking emphatically with each other. “I believe,” he offered in a voice soft as finely spun silk, “that the three of us should retreat to my residence and discuss the changes to the building over a glass of…” the words fell like flowers from his lips, “not tea.”

Talok’s neutral tone seemed stern this time. “There is no need for private discussion.”

“I think you should know.” He smelled of citron and rosewater. “My species considered intimacy of deep importance. If we are to embark on any undertaking, we bond in a physical way.” He touched Aafia’s hand and her heart raced. “I want to greatly understand you, and I have yet to be presented with such an opportunity.” _Help me before I say yes._

Talok plucked away the consul’s hand. “Excuse us.” Aafia felt a panic-inducing tug at her hijab. Jumping from her seat, she bustled back to their corner. She snapped, “Never do that! It is very, very! Rude!”

“You must enforce boundaries.” Glancing back to the table, his eye-crinkle became more prominent. “They have moved to another table. The Risian consul has arrived.” Another. She vainly dodged the scowling, venomous stares of other diners who were either moving to other tables or telling waitstaff they were ready to leave.

By the time they return, the consuls had schemed to relegate Ianiot to a seat farthest from Aafia, leaving the prime position wide-open for Utyra chose outfit was louder than any other voice. The consul, to Aafia’s disgust, put her bare foot all over the seat of Talok’s chair. If she had been drunk before, the sight now made her quite sober. “Talok, is it true that you have never visited my planet? That is terrible to hear as it is, without a doubt, the most beautiful place in the galaxy.”

The other consuls would not be outdone. “Beauty is relative--” “--Aesthetics are a delicate thing, don’t you agree--” “The glaciers of my planet glitter in a way no water can--” “A desert holds its own beauty--” and so on. Hands kept reaching for Talok’s elbow and he kept plucking them away or gently pushing them off with his stylus. Whatever notes he had gathered before were worthless now that they understood the actual intent.

The curious, familiar voice of the Vulcan consul brought a brief pause to the commotion. “Master Architect Talok, Dr. Jalal.” Koss nodded to both of them, ignoring the others. “Good evening.”

“Consul Koss, this is unexpected.” Instead of relaxing, Talok maintained his hot stare. “Do you attend this restaurant often?”

Instead of answering, Koss approach Aafia and edged out Mwit who had still been set on showing off the plans her daughter had drawn. “Dr. Jalal.” Koss reached for her hand, hesitated, and then abandoned the gesture. “I did not properly thank you for the color experiment. Perhaps we should withdraw to the Consuls’ Residence. I have a gift.”

This was too much for her. “That is very kind,” she answered through her teeth, “please send it to my office with one of your assistants.” Her heart dropped as Grangeless, the Tellerite consul, walked in with a jeweled box in hand. He had the good sense to curse at the situation, but that did not stop him from approaching with a very off-putting smile.

She grabbed at Talok’s collar. “We have to go,” she said, no longer trying to hide her discomfort. Talok swatted away her hand before recognizing it was her. “I agree,” he replied. Both rose from the table.

Grangeless pleaded, “Oh, are you leaving? At least let me give you this--”

“No!” Aafia clapped her hands to get their attention. “Hello! Yes! Good evening!” They still murmured with each other. She realized that the majority of the people in the restaurant now were angry waitstaff. “Thank you, all. Ah, this is, ah, very flattering! If you would to make suggestions for the project, please submit--” a chorus of moans and curses. “You can submit your proposals in writing!”

The consuls leapt from the table to encircle them. “Have you ever seen Deltan jewelry? It is marvelous and quite delicate--” “--but Andorian jewlery is much more durable--” “Have you ever been off-world? Would you like to visit Betazed?” “I can arrange for a private transport to Risa--” “I can arrange for a diplomatic reception for your families by the Caitain government--” And on and on and on and on, making Aafia’s head spin so she could hardly keep track of every offer.

Someone took her by the elbow and dragged her toward the door. Talok, what a relief. They were out on the softly-lit street, and his brisk pace put distance between them and the gaggle of consuls who were now spilling out of the restaurant because the owner was shouting at them for the terrible ruckus they had caused during the evening.

When they rounded the corner, they slowed down. Aafia felt the anxiety fall away, and now she just wanted to lean against Talok. “I think I left my purse,” she groaned, peering back.

“Then I suspect the consuls are currently fighting over which of them will return it to you.”

Her stomach growled and rumbled. She sighed, their arms still locked together. “All I wanted was a nice supper….”

++++

String lights hung above their heads in the sand-colored restaurant opened to the sky. In the middle of their low dining table, a strong fire kept the night’s chill at bay. Aafia had never been to a place like this and rather liked the concept: servers brought food in special long-handled pots which were thrust into the fire to cook until they whistled, often to be shared with others at the table. Talok tended the pots and Aafia kept the rice and parathas warm while they waited. Her stomach still burbled for food, but a salted lassi could keep it quiet for now. The fire even warmed her toes as she sat cross-legged on plush cushions with many centimeters of stone between her and the flames.

“Am I naïve?” She sighed, leaning on the table and watching the fire. Off in the trees, insects buzzed. “I should have recognized right away when Asyhl did not invite you.” Now she understood why the other project leads quit so soon. “I should know better!”

In the shadows, Talok seemed more expressive. A small tilt of the head was far more exaggerated than in the daylight. “I agree. I expect bribery and seduction from the other species as they are given to the perils of emotional conduct. To see the Vulcan consul also engage in similar behavior was highly irregular.”

“_Why_ are they like this?!” She already dreaded the ordeal of tomorrow over who would bring back her purse. “Kiran was right! They are worse than children!” She put her hands over her face. “A month ago, I walked into the Risian consul’s office, and the staff were engaged in—oh, this, this is so embarrassing—they were doing—well, whatever it was, it was sexual, I could see that much!” Thinking about it now made her tired and irritated. “In the middle of the day! I swear, I think they do it on purpose!”

“That is correct.” He used a long fork to check one of the pots. “The Betazoid and Deltan corps do the same when they know I am approaching. I have found the Betazoid consular corps engaging in this behavior on two occasions and the Deltan corps on three.”

“That is unacceptable! Civilized people do not act this way! We—I know what we should do.” She shook her fist. “We should formally complain! Yes!”

“That is ill-advised. I spoke with Kiran on the matter. A formal complaint could create unintended consequences such as the involvement of ambassadors or the entire removal of the consular corps. And” as he spoke, she mouthed along “removal of a consular corps would disrupt the project.” She also suspected that they needed to maintain whatever tenuous balance in place. “Kiran gave us our recourse: we speak with the consuls about the behavior of their staff. He tells me this is highly effective.”

Clouds swirled across the full moon of early autumn. “So we are stuck with them.” She considered pulling off her hijab, but that would be wholly unprofessional in front of her colleague and in public. Talok tilted one of the pots for more even cooking.

Aafia couldn’t keep the thought to herself. “Should I admit that this project will fail? Just as Kiran told us it would?”

“We do not have enough information yet to answer that question.”

That didn’t reassure her. “Well, what does your wife think?”

“I do not have a spouse.”

She shuffled through their conversations in her mind. “But you have three children.” She remembered the children primarily lived with their mother. Then the dots connected. “Oh. Oh! Oh, I am so sorry.” Now she had dozens upon dozens of question about what this meant on his planet, none of which were appropriate to ask.

“It is a relevant example of a lesson you must learn.” The pots whistled. He pulled them from the fire one by one. “My union with T’Pai was arranged by our parents while we were children. Our lives were bound together, and when the time came, we mated.” Three times, at least. Talok fanned the pots with their lids to help them cool. “Then one day, she came home and told me she no longer wished for our union. She would not accept my refusal. She was telling me as a courtesy, not as a request.

“We were incompatible from the beginning. We took on very different career paths as she became a geneticist, and neither of us found the other’s work interesting. We had developed an arrangement. Separate lives with the possibility of asking the other for help. Our children were the only way our lives intersected. I.” He paused. “I did, on occasion, ask her to care for our children when I knew it greatly conflicted with her own plans. We had agreed that neither of us could refuse when asked to take time for our children.”

He put aside the lids and picked up the serving spoons. “We accepted the arrangement. The day she came home, she told me she had found another. Stron. I believe the phrase on Earth is ‘post office.’ He worked there. It was the first time they had ever seen or spoken with each other. T’Pai is decisive.” A pot of bhindi masala came toward her while she still divided up her rice and parathas. “When she dissolved our union, I saw this as a failure on my part. I did not acknowledge that our union had been unfulfilling for both of us and possibly harmful to our children. My goal was to prevent change.

“However.” The pot of dry aloo gobi followed after the bhindi. “After our separation, I understood that my goal was illogical. Stron and T’Pai are highly compatible. It is not my place to give details, but it is relevant that Stron’s entire family had perished, his own wife and young child included; T’Pai does not wish to birth another child, and Stron became the diligent caretaker of our children. He told me that caring for T’Pai and my children has filled the void once occupied by his loss.”

Aafia leaned on her elbow, enthralled. “And now?”

“My union with T’Pai resulted in three healthy children. My separation from T’Pai gave a family to someone who had none, and my children are three thoughtful adults. T’Pai and I are friends. I learned that measuring success by what benefits me is a poor measure of a goal. Now, I define success by its impact on those around me.”

“But I am doing that!” she sneered. “What is our project? Updating the buildings, improving the grounds. Why? For the consuls!” She dolloped raita on her plate. “I could do so much more if they just, just stayed out of my way!”

“I disagree.” The fire danced in his dark eyes. “Your proposal is thorough, but it is based on how you expect the people in the city to use the space.”

She scowled as he handed over her bowl of hot water for hand-washing. “I have learned what to change—excuse me.” She muttered a hurried prayer. “I looked at the previous work and changed what I had to change. The consuls have stayed here for at least ten years, right? Some of them longer. They should not complain so much.”

Talok wore the expression of someone looking for the right words to explain a very complicated thought in a language he was still learning. “Consider that you go home to your family every evening. Any place that you go on this planet, you will be more familiar with the city than any of the consuls. It does not matter if you have never visited the place before. This planet is your home.”

The crease of his brow looked much deeper in the fire’s light. “To visit another world. The consul Koss tells me that he goes to the mountains beyond the city because they bring to mind the mountains near his birth-city on Homeworld. But this place does not look or smell like Homeworld. The sand he touches is not the grains of Homeworld. To him, this place is real and Homeworld is unreality. But this place is not Home. There is a cognitive dissonance which cannot find peaceful resolution.” He looked up to the moon. “I find that I am also experiencing this process. I do not know the word. I only know that I am Other, an expected consequence of being not of this planet in a truly biological way.”

Aafia wished she could reach across the table to take his hand, hold him, something to ease what must be a painful experience. He did not dwell on the sentiment. “The consuls, and their staff, are concerned about the possibility that Homeworld may become such unreality that they will no longer understand the people they have pledged to serve. What we experienced this evening was a manifestation of these concerns.” The shadows must be playing tricks on her, making Talok appear to smile. “I also believe they are using us as proxies for their own schemes against each other, but this aspect cannot be helped.”

“Then what should I do?”

He tilted his head in thought. Then: “You talk too much.”

This was, right now, the least she had ever liked Talok. “Excuse me?” she inquired sharply.

“When speaking with the consuls, stop. Listen to them.”

She talked too much? What kind of person says someone talks too much? But. He trusted her enough to say such revealing things about himself. The least Aafia could do was take his advice. “Very well. Anything else?”

“Stop acting as if they are strange to you.”

“But they _are_ strange!” Aafia regretted her words immediately. “I, well, I did not mean—I just have never met anyone who wasn’t from Earth and now I meet people from seven different worlds.” What an exhausting day. “I, ah, I don’t. I don’t treat you that way. Do I?”

“You do not. It was how I noticed that your behavior toward the diplomatic staff.” He unfurled the cloth napkin with the slightest flick of the wrist. “They are also strange to me. Your world is strange to me. Kiran was correct in his initial assessment that we are not qualified for the project. If we are complete the project, we must train ourselves to become qualified.”

She knew she had moaned and groaned over many things tonight and didn’t expect to stop any time soon. “It will be even more work than we already have.”

“I agree. We must train each other and work together where possible.” His confidence stunned her. Their task was nigh-impossible, and he spoke as if their success was preordained.

Aafia, taking his advice, decided to keep silent for a little while. The parathas were still warm. The mundane task of sharing a meal with someone felt deeply intimate because she realized that despite spending so much time together, this was the first time they had eaten together. When it came to his food, Talok was dainty, moreso than she had ever been. They found the thread of a new conversation and talked freely. The clouds glided overhead, making the stars twinkle in the night sky.

She had missed the last train back to Lahore at least an hour ago, but her family knew she would be home late. On the sidewalk outside the restaurant, they walked together toward a Public Safety kiosk. When they talked, Aafia lost all sense of time.

“I never thought government work could be this hard,” she continued from their previous conversation. “There is a button on that kiosk that I can press, and the screen will give me someone in Public Safety. I can tell them I missed my train, and they will send someone to take me home. I do not need my train pass or anything. They will simply take me home. Everything should be so simple, including our project.”

“I have observed in my time since arriving here that our experiences of government are as the ones being served. For the first time, we are within government serving others. We perceive government as simple due to the work done by others to ensure that our needs are always met.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Why did I never notice how wise you were?”

“I do not know. Perhaps you were distracted.” That fleeting shadow of a smile.

She could tell him anything, and she caught herself beaming. “I had a lovely evening.”

His eyes sparkled. “I learned a great deal, Dr. Jalal.” “You can call me Aafia. Like the color.” No one else in her life would ever understand that otherwise stupid sentence.

“After you call Public Safety, I shall wait with you, Aafia.”

A breeze caught the folds of their clothes to snake the cold air up toward their skin. On instinct, they pulled closer. The stars winked around the silver moon as they waited. With him, she happily would have waited until sunrise.


	4. Peoples From the Stars

In the garden of life  
Grows a sapling of pain,  
The deer of songs nibbles at it.  
The winds of separation  
Blow through the night,  
A few leaves drop.  
\--Shiv Kumar Batalvi

++++

Getting this project right, Aafia decided, meant doing more to understand the people it affected. 

She ended her commute—much to her parents' disappointment—and took a room in one of the old houses that lined her plot; she made sure her room was on the top floor with a window that overlook the consulates' complex. The woman who looked after the house was a friend of Kiran, and she opened her doors to young government workers new to the city or just needing a place to stay. Aafia enjoyed leisurely hot breakfasts with other young civil servants rather than a paratha-wrapped banana at the station which she shoved in her mouth on her train ride. 

The dry, monsoon-less autumn months gave way to the cold, cold winter and an intimate look at the off-worlders. The Andorians were the kings and queens of ice, rushing out of their offices in elation when the first snow fell. On the barren, frozen quad they sparred together with the zest of children in late spring. They opened their windows and office door to the cold. When Aafia could not sleep, she’d look out her window to Asyhl, his two spouses, and their children picnicking just outside their residence, their white hair invisible against the snow. 

No more of Mother's tiffins. For the best, she reasoned. Instead, she joined Kiran and his staff in their daily ritual of taking lunch with an old couple who had moved into one of the new houses dotting the perimeter of her project site. What they said when she arrived was true: Kiran cherished the consuls, and the consuls treated him like family. Before falling severely ill and returning home to recover, Kiran served in diplomatic corps for years under consuls and even directly under an ambassador. He understood the ‘unreality’ Talok described, and the completion of this project was personal. Kiran didn't merely want the site updated; he wanted it to become the crown jewel of Quetta. 

With strict vegetarianism among half of the off-worlders, Kiran constantly fretted over providing adequate food in the dead of winter. No small feat as he had to provide for the consuls, the staff, and whatever family the consuls had brought with them. More importantly, they complained loudly about the lack of fresh fruits or vegetables and went so far as insisting they could taste whether or not the food had been grown nearby. Care packages from staffers’ family on Homeworld came with abundant fanfare. 

No more family dinners. Talok prodded her into inviting the consuls to dine. Of course, the consuls always insisted on bringing their entire staff as part of their various machinations and thus, the two architects had developed a schedule to dine with each consular corps. Every evening they saw one of the consuls, even on their days of rest. It was enlightening and exhausting. It also made Aafia think about the dinner when it had been just Talok and her. 

Kiran warned that tensions were high during winter because so many of the off-worlders came from warmer planets. While the Andorians welcomed the cold, weekly skirmishes around the small recreation area in the consular residence became the norm. The Vulcans, Risians, and Betazoids were bad enough about sharing, and this year it was worse because the Tellerites had been banned for the year from Quetta’s own facilities for ‘unsporting’ behavior. The Deltans called too often whenever a bad storm passed through out of anxiety over sudden changes in the weather. The tension of winter even reached Aafia and Talok for a brief time. She foolishly offered their office, without telling Talok, to some of the Caitains when they wanted space for some personal projects. The next morning, they came to an office covered in hair. 

At night, her window was her companion. When she realized she’d been re-reading the same sentence four times, she’d look out on her nigh-impossible project. Talok’s window was on the first floor of the consular residence. When it was very late, her eyes fell on the shaded light. He was awake too. She wondered if he felt the same uncertainty that anything they did would be successful. 

Sometimes she thought about going to him. Just to talk. 

Each time, she thought better of it. They’d see each other the next day, and the next, and the next. 

And the next.


	5. Boundless As It Is

Oh this burning desire  
Boundless as it is  
What will be   
Its next step indeed?  
\--Ghalib

++++

“—And then we pull out the entire fountain,” continued Aafia as she opened their office door to the spring night. After the usual lengthy dinner with the consuls, they could finally retire to their homes. She frowned at the prayer rug she kept in their office, the nightly reminder that she was only praying three times each day. Always the same: she and Talok discuss their goals before the dinner, discuss their plans on their walks to the consul’s eatery of choice, meet with the staff and wait for the consul, have their meal, discuss the goals over tea, discuss with the consul and staff on a walk back to the site, until finally Aafia and Talok met one last time in their office to plan for the next day. She was just too worn out at the end of these dinners. “And then.” She lost her words. “...Sorry, what was I talking about?”

“Removal of the fountain.” Tonight, the lights of their office made everything seem stark. “You appear distracted. You should discuss what preoccupies you.” 

“It’s the Deltans.” She couldn’t help a long, growling sigh. “It is always the Deltans. No, it is more. It is so many things.” 

He offered two chairs for them. “I am listening.” He was always so kind….

Sitting down reminded her of the ache in her feet. “I. You must know I do not mean to say that I do not want to spend time with you. I just.” She stared out the window. “I spend all of my time on this project. Even when I go back to the boarding house, I am still working.” 

“I know. I have often noticed the light from your window.” 

“Yes! And, and I suppose.” She threw her hands in the air. “Is it any of it enough? Should we try giving the project to someone else? I, I am drowning in work, it feels. I still hardly know the city, I don’t have anything other than my work to discuss with my family—am I just becoming boring?” 

“We are reaching a milestone in our work. Kiran is impressed and has asked the city to give us a public hearing before the end of summer. I do not understand the last question, but I am confident that our work is adequate by any standard, not simply when measured against the resources we have.” 

Hearing him say that did help. That feeling promptly disappeared when he asked, “You originally spoke of the Deltans. What are your concerns?” 

She had been studious with her medication to cut the effects of their pheromones, but Kiran reminded her that total immunity to the entire consular corps would take a full year—and to expect some setbacks whenever the staff changed. Worse still, the Deltans made a game around how much amorous teasing the two architects would allow. “I. Well.” She stood up. “Oh my, it is so warm in here. Let me open up the door again.” 

“Aafia, please tell me your concerns.” His tone became stern. “Shall I speak to Ianiot about his staff’s behavior toward us?”

She rushed back to him before she could crack the door. “No, no, no, no, please, please don’t do that. It isn’t about that at all.” Unfortunately, she liked the attention. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she liked it very much. “I just. I, I don’t know, this is embarrassing.”

“Aafia, tell me your concern. Shall I speak with Kiran?” Well that was even worse.

Too embarrassed to look at him, she pulled her blouse up over her face to yell, “No boyfriend in over a year and I think it is making me crazy!” She felt the sweat running all down her neck and chest and back and turning her trousers into a swamp. 

She peeked up to see a deep furrow in his brow, the one that came from him parsing words in the language he still hadn’t mastered. “Ah, I understand. You are in need of a companion to perform certain duties. In this case, I offer myself in this capacity.”

He did not understand. “No, no, I promise, there is no need for you do that!” She could just die. “Forget I said anything!” Humiliation glued her to the chair. 

“If you do not wish me to act in this capacity, then you should seek a suitable partner.” 

“When?” At last she met his eyes. “All I do is spend every waking moment on this project, and most of it I spend…well, I spend with you.” She needed to banish that thought right away. 

“We work closely and an interruption in our current work could harm progress. Thus, my initial offer.” He stroked his chin. “I must become familiar with the duties and responsibilities that humans place on their companions.” 

“Well! Ah, well, being a companion, as you say, well, it can sometimes mean that you do not have other companions.” Explaining an arrangement between more than two people seemed a little advanced, but more importantly she just wanted the conversation to end. “I am certain that you already have a, a companion of your own on your homeworld, right? I know you mentioned that you are not married, but Koss’ staff tells me that your people have, well, you have arrangements and I don’t want, well, I wouldn’t want to….” She had forgotten how she meant to end her breathless rambling. “You understand?”

“Your words are incoherent, but I understand your meaning. I have no such arrangement with anyone on my planet. I do not make my offer frivolously.” 

She wondered if she should just blurt out what she actually meant by ‘not having a boyfriend’, hoping he would be so scandalized that he’d just stop speaking with her altogether. There must be another reason she could think of. “Then you must know that, that, well, humans need physical contact often, and I know your people will not have that kind of contact with people you don’t know very well.” 

Nothing in his face changed, but his voice grew soft. “Aafia, I believe that we are very familiar with each other. You are trustworthy and receptive to new information. You consider my advice when it is logical to do so, and you have taken every opportunity to better understand the culture of the consuls. You are a person of good character, one to whom I freely offer companionship.” 

Now she was starting to wonder if, after all, he did understand what she meant. “Well, there, I mean, do you not think wanting it is, whatever your people call it, illogical?” Hesitantly, she turned herself so their knees were touching, mere centimeters of cloth separating them. 

“I cannot make this judgment as I still have much to learn of your species.” As he spoke, she slid her hand down to her knee and let a few fingers rest on his knee. “I agree that desire is often illogical. However, there may be a logic behind this need you are expressing. If I am to understand your species, and we are very familiar with each other, then it is logical to provide companionship.” He did not pull away from her fingers. 

She decided to be bold and let her fingers creep forward until her palm was covering Talok’s knee. “Well.” She could only muster to speak above a whisper. The door had let in insects. She didn’t care. “There is a matter of, of biology. A certain aspect of companionship may not be possible.” 

Something in his expression was different from every other time they spoke, but she could not name it. “Koss tells me,” he answered in dulcet tones, “the ambassador took a wife from Earth many years ago and she bore him a son.” He did not push away her hand. “From this, I infer biological compatibility.” 

Her hand slid up to his thigh, but she would not go further without an invitation. “Is.” His eyes were so dark but full of light. Even with a face like it was cut from stone, she found the softer edges. “What. What is it like.” The free hand play with the top button of her blouse. “Intimacy. With your people.” 

She realized they had drawn closer and even as they held each other's gaze she felt his breath lightly on her collar. "I do not know the words in your language. We learn to demonstrate. We do not speak such things." 

The feeling of warm coconut milk flowed from the tips of her fingers and up past her wrists; Talok's hand rested atop hers. 

The coconut milk coated her higher and higher, her forearm, her elbow, her bicep, up to her shoulder where her muscles unclench and she felt the tension fall away.

She could feel the liquid warmth rise up toward her scalp, slide down along her spine. 

Dripping along her ribs, rolling over her hips. 

Slipping between her toes. 

Falling past her lips toward her teeth. 

"Aafia." 

She found them nose-to-nose, her head tilted in anticipation. 

"I have advised you poorly." Talok's other hand was on her shoulder, resisting her efforts to move closer. In her lap, their fingers were interlaced. She had undone the first two buttons of her blouse and her hand was poised to take on the third. 

"I am not a suitable companion to you." This was the best she had felt in months, so he should forget all of that. As if hearing her thoughts, he added, "We are colleagues. A new arrangement could harm the project." 

His fingers slipped away. She was herself again. She looked down, hoping he thought it was to fix her blouse and not because she was too embarrassed to look at him. "You are right, absolutely right. It is, well, it is just in bad taste. It is not what civilized people do." 

He had already stood up, now some paces away at one of the wall computers to continue their work. "The other consideration regards the consuls. An arrangement with me may be interpreted as favoritism toward Koss and his staff." 

"A very important consideration, yes," she echoed, hopping from the chair and fixing her hijab. How fast could she run in these shoes? 

The silence must have lasted only a few seconds but it felt enormous. She couldn't leave without saying something. "So, we will meet before dinner tomorrow?" At least she would have time during the day to do something other than work. 

"Yes. However, you are not required to attend dinner with the Tellerites." 

"Oh." Had she offended him? Why this change? "Then, I will go to the next one?" 

Talok walked to the door, holding it open for her. "Perhaps it is too soon to make the decision. In dedicating yourself to our project, you have not been allowed the opportunity to find balance. I recommend we meet tomorrow morning to discuss a sustainable schedule." A few more insects flew into their office. "If you are to find a suitable companion, you must be allowed the time to do so." 

She couldn't read him. "We...I. Why?" 

The soft crease of his brow relieved her deeply: confusion right after he thought he said something uncontroversial. "You expressed a need and an obstacle to obtaining that need. The solution is to remove the obstacle." 

She would have hugged him if she didn't think it would make things more awkward than they already were. "Oh, Talok, thank you." 

"You are my friend and my colleague. This is a logical course of action."

Things felt natural again, the way they had been for so long. “Goodnight, Talok.”

“Goodnight, Aafia. Please tell me of your success.”


	6. The First Town Hall

Somewhere I heard a voice  
Far away  
A voice exactly yours.  
My ears sighed deeply.

Happiness  
Innocent as a child  
Ran towards the voice  
Bare-footed  
\--Amrita Pritam

++++

Last Day of Ramadan. One whole year of work, now culminating in the first public hearing on the first phase of the first proper planning for the diplomatic complex in seven years. In one of the back corridors of City Hall Quetta, Aafia and Khalil dashed hand-in-hand lest she be late getting ready for the public hearing. Khalil graciously held her travel satchel. Before rounding a corner, she stopped him for a few secretive kisses, making the two of them giggle. 

“Are you nervous?” he teased.

“Of course not!” She grabbed his tunic to pull him into a longer, deeper kiss. 

Just as Aafia pulled away, she saw Talok was coming toward them with Kiran clapping for her attention. “Let’s go! Let’s go! If you go now, you still have time to change your clothes!”

Khalil stuck out his hand. “You must be Kiran! And, this is Talok, right? From off-world? Aafia has wanted us to meet.” He flashed a charming grin that made her swoon. “She tells me you are brilliant!” 

Talok nodded in acknowledgment. “This is to be expected. Vulcan brains contain structures that Human brains lack. In the aggregate, Vulcan brains can store more information and perform more simultaneous tasks without suffering the same ill-effects.” All the while, Kiran gave him a strange, incredulous look. Like they had discussed this conversation before. When Talok noticed, he tilted one eyebrow in response. “That is to say. I appreciate the...compliment.” 

Kiran didn’t wait for another word, snatching the travel satchel from his hands. “Nice to meet you, Khalib—right, Khalil, sure, Aafia, let’s go.”

“See you at the hearing!” she called over her shoulder as the other two hustled her away. 

They brought her into a bridal suite which currently served as the privacy area for the consuls. Watching them reminded her that above all, they were diplomats; they shared mirrors as they took great pains to ensure perfect presentation, most of them not fully dressed either. Bath houses were one thing. Seeing so much of the people she now considered something like friends was off-putting. Utyra, nude from the waist up, rushed to the door. “Out of here, both of you! Dr. Jalal needs to get ready!” 

No time to say a word before the Risian consul marched her to the back of the room. Mwit and Holloya extended a folding screen to separate them from the males. “There. Now you can dress.” The three turned to the mirrors, making a big show of turning their backs on her to provide privacy. As quick as she could, she whipped on her fancy outfit of choice: chocolate-brown, white-dot shalwar kameez, perfect for important occasions that fell during the holiest of months. She pulled off her simple hijab to shake out her long hair. The dupatta would cover her head. And for a bit of fun, white low-heels. 

Mwit caught her reflection in the mirror and whipped around with a smile that Aafia no longer found unnerving. “We shall attend to you.” 

“Oh, that is very kind, but not necessary.”

“We must!” said Holloya, already wheeling around with a brush in hand. “It is the consuls’ tradition. We did the same for Dr. Aslan.” Finally, the comparisons to her exalted predecessor felt like praise. “Did you notice Talok? He is not dressed like he is colorblind.” 

She knew this meant they saw her and Talok as equals to Dr. Aslan, and the months she’d spent learning about the consuls told her to take the gesture as one of great importance and respect. The three hovered around her, not touching even a hair until they got her permission. “Well, if you did it for Dr. Aslan...then yes, I accept.” 

No sooner had she said those words did they spring into action. Holloya and Mwit took to her hair while Utyra used a soft moist sponge to clean her face. She felt undeserving of the attention, but it was so sweet that she felt worse about stopping them. “So!” said Utyra, “Kiran says that your sex-boy is in the audience!” She reconsidered her words “No. Boy. Friend-boy? Lover-who-is-boy?”

“His name is Khalil,” Aafia peeped, the cool water of the sponge helping her keep from sweating with embarrassment. 

“Talok told us you met him two months ago,” chimed Holloya. “He seemed pleased.” She paused. “Well, as pleased as Vulcans can be about anything. But he was very interested in meeting Khalil. You understand, right? And why not? He is very close to you.” 

“I—ow! I—no, you were fine. And no, he is close with Koss’ people.” 

“No,” countered Mwit, carefully separating Aafia’s hair into sections. “Not at all. He spends time with them because they are his people, but you are his favorite.” 

Holloya wagged the brush sarcastically. “Now remember, Vulcans don’t have favorites!” The three had a very hardy laugh over the statement while Aafia could only chuckle along. As was the telepath’s way, she abruptly changed the topic. “Oh, your hair is beautiful,” she said, possibly to herself. 

Utyra kept a strong hand on her jaw to hold her head in one place. “Kiran is who you should thank for making this hearing on the last day of the month and give you time to prepare. Have you ever stood for a public hearing? No? Then remember to stay calm. I know Kiran told you all about how bad we are. The municipal officials are worse.” 

“Oh, did you bring cosmetics?” asked Mwit. “You should color your lips so they stand out better when they broadcast the hearing.” 

Aafia lost her breath. “Wh-what? Broadcast to where?”

“The rest of Balochistan, hm, and I suppose as far as your parents’ home. Did you invite your family?” 

“N—I—should I have invited them?” 

Utyra frowned, rubbing a lightly tinted cream between her palms to delicately apply to Aafia’s face. “No, this hearing is more of a formality. The officials will crow like ducks—or whatever those animals are—but in the end, they will agree. They want the changes to the complex as much as we do.” 

Mwit pulled a handful of spiraling hairpins from the pocket of her skirt. “And you know our staffs are helping in the city’s government because of the holiday, right? There is no one to run back and fetch things for you.” 

“And everyone has been fasting,” Utyra grumbled, and then Aafia noticed all of them looked a little worn. Her body reminded her that she’d been fasting too, something she’d been able to forget about when Khalil was around. “They will make a big display of whatever concern they have.” 

To take her mind off the evening meal that would only come after this hearing, she let the rest of their chatter wash over her. They schemed and flanked about each other on campus; but when it came to these public displays, the consuls turned into a united front. The way they doted on her, complimenting her with comments like “your hair is beautiful” or “this is a good color for you”, she slowly felt more than just friendliness—kinship. 

They finally draped the rosy gossamer veil over her head. “Oh!” gasped Holloya. “Is this too thin? Do you need an opaque veil?” 

Their concern for her personal customs was so touching! Aafia shook her head. “No, I picked this one for such an occasion. The three of you did such lovely work with my hair.” Truly, they had made marvelous effort to make her pretty; how Utryra had mastered the art of subtle makeup on dark skin despite Utyra appearing near bone-white like most of the other aliens, she would never know. As she styled the dupatta, the three consuls quickly finished their own preparations before pulling away the panels. 

She found the other consuls prepared, dressed with greater finery that she had ever seen. They surrounded her, all bowing slightly, and then Ianiot stepped forward to present a scarf-like shawl she realized was made entirely of bead work and metallic thread. It shimmered like a fish in a clear stream. “On behalf of the Deltan government, please accept this token of gratitude for your work and cooperation.” His smile could still make her just a little weak. “You took great pains to hear us.” He carefully placed the shawl around her shoulders.

Asyhl had been sipping some concoction, making a sour face after each swig; unable to fast like the other consuls, he showed solidarity by only consuming food and drink he found repugnant. The moment Ianiot finished, Asyhl produced a brooch from his pocket: warm brown, shaped like a crescent moon. It was just the sort of thing she would have picked out for herself. “The Andorian Empire offers a gift: this piece; to recognize your accomplishments.” He gathered up the perfect amount of her dupatta to pin the brooch just in the manner she would have herself. 

“The Vulcan and Tellerite governments have shared their resources for the iftar following the meeting,” said Gangless, a hand over his chest as a sign of respect. “We do this to honor your example.” 

“Oh, I,” she stammered, so filled with appreciation that she thought she might cry, “I just do not know what to say—”

Kiran stepped in. “Ah! You’re ready. Let’s go, let’s go!” No time for sentimentality. 

All of them quickly filed into the great banquet hall where rows upon rows of chairs had been set up. Tables were on opposite ends: a lectern and dais for the hearing at the front, decorated tables which would soon hold food in the back. A rolling display had been set up for whenever they needed to show diagrams. Recording crew pestered each other about where they would ultimately set their equipment. She stood before her chair along the dais to take in the sight as dozens of people began filing in to take their seats. She caught Khalil weaving around the rest. 

Only then did she realize Talok was next to her. “Your face is different.” 

“Yes? Oh! Oh, right, yes! The consuls, they assisted me. They used cosmetics.” Did the people of his planet ever use such things?

He nodded, then tilted his head to look at her again. “It is the color of your lips and around your eyelids. There is a strong contrast between them and the color of your irises.” 

She could feel herself blushing. Before she could reply, the three consuls who helped her crowded around asking where her “boy-love” was. Just as he had promised her, Khalil had taken a seat in the front row. That beautiful grin. She better not look at him too much or she might lose herself. 

Her giddiness dissipated when she saw that people kept coming. And coming. How much of the town was in attendance? She took her seat, constantly glancing about to everyone else who seemed perfectly at ease; Talok chatted with Consul Koss in their native tongue while the other consuls found their other shared languages—as if they were all taking a break from the way Humans speak. 

The sustained humming din of the room subsided when Mayor Usha Khoso spoke into the microphone at the lectern, her voice carrying all the way to back wall. 

“Thank you, thank you,” said the mayor, waiting for everyone to settle down. “Yes, thank you.” The opening invocation began. 

“In honor of this month, for centuries we gave of our possessions to those who had none. In this new world, there is no want for food or shelter or these things which are necessary for sustaining life. If we are to honor our culture and our traditions, we give something else: our time. Quetta holds these hearings as its duty to the people. The people come to these hearings as their duty to Quetta...” The Mayor went on briefly, but Aafia was too nervous to listen. She kept her eyes trained on the table where they all sat, running through her prepared comments in her head. 

Imam Abu took the lectern. Aafia liked him; he led worship at the mosque next to the consuls’ complex and never commented on her absences. “Humanity was astonished by the people who came from the stars because we did not think that Allah had given us siblings on other worlds.” Imam Abu turned to smile at the consuls, and she remembered that she was still discovering the community which had been built here. “We gather here now to do good work for our community and for our siblings. We are of diverse opinions here. Yet we wish to mend our differences and reach agreement satisfactory to all. May we speak with insight and wisdom. May our decisions reflect what is best for everyone.” She also liked him for his habit of keeping things short. 

Kiran’s turn. Now the meeting had begun. Aafia jerked her head up, her gaze on the large display a few assistants were setting up while Kiran spoke. His words were white noise. 

“...like to now welcome Dr. Aafia Jalal and Master Architect Talok ibn Balev. They will lead our meeting.” 

Time to shine. In the uncomfortable silence, the soft squeak of the wheels from the rolling pierced her ears as Talok brought it around to stand next to the lectern. They brought up the massive map of the site which represented the culmination of a year’s work. Lots of chatter started up as people pulled out their own tablets; they were accessing the map as well. 

Her sigh, thankfully, was not picked up before she began. “We are proposing a number of changes to the site….” She ran through them quickly, hoping that everyone would simply agree that these were good and ask what they needed. They had done everything they could to make this right. Among the most important additions: two gardens, a greenhouse, a greatly expanded residence, a small reception hall, and expanding the original building for more offices and even space for an eighth consulate. She knew it was quite a bit to ask of the site, but they had thought of almost everything. 

Aafia’s anxiety had almost disappeared by the time she finished with, “Questions?”

Too stressed to keep track of everyone’s names, she could only identify them by their departments or titles. Parks Planning and Design stood up, tapped a few buttons on his tablet, and then used it as the microphone needed to let the whole hall hear him. “Where can we review the master plan?”

Just when her confidence was creeping back, the question chased it away. “We, uh, we have not written it yet.” 

Parks Planning and Design sneered. “Then we have nothing to discuss!” He turned to someone nearby. “Is it time to break fast?” 

Talok joined her at the lectern. “We are using the process as outlined by The Architects’ Collective on Homeworld. This is the first phase which required us to reconcile previous work, our own proposals, and the stated needs of stakeholders—”

“What? We never met with you.” The Master Horticulturalist spoke up but did not bother with activating her microphone. “And you do not have a master plan for us to review? How is this map supposed to help us? These gardens you are asking for require lots of planning.” 

Talok answered before she could. “Understandable, and we anticipate changes. This initial diagram, as I said, represents the needs of the stakeholders.” 

“Just say the consulates,” grumbled a board member from Historical Architectural Review. “Yes, we are doing this for them, but they are not the only ones to consider. We still have to maintain the historical integrity of the site.” 

Environmental Services enjoined, her microphone louder than anyone else’s thus far. “Before we do anything, we need to discuss waste. It has been a long-standing problem that we cannot compost the waste from the consulates or the residence buildings due to their—” she hesitated “—unique anatomies.” 

Aafia looked over expecting a row of angry expressions, but instead the consuls all murmured in agreement. Their plan had accounted for that, right? ...Had they?

Water Management stood up to use the microphone of Environmental Services. “And we need to consider water use: the gardens, the greenhouse, but also building the additions and then maintaining new residences.”

Talok was in the middle of switching to another diagram. “The techniques for architectural work were developed on my planet and required no water.” 

Bolting from his seat, the representative from City Planning inquired, “Wait, our people do not use those techniques. Do you intend to bring workers from your home world?” The mere question sparked ripples of disapproving comments, and the representative raised his voice above them. “We never agreed on that for any proposal! Anyone from your home world that comes to the project will teach us the methods! We are the ones who will do the work.”

“Teaching your people will take time away from work and may cause significant delays.” 

He was not helping, and Aafia took back the microphone. “Everyone, I promise that we will submit our diagrams and preliminary plans this coming month and we will reconvene with your comments.” Maybe there was still a way to salvage the meeting. 

“These are intriguing proposals,” the Master Horticulturalist said, “but we just would like to have known about these beforehand. What happened that you could not submit anything to us ahead of this meeting for our review?”

In the moment she took her breath to speak, Consul Ianiot rose and took over the discussion. An observation: social friction made Deltans anxious, and their social etiquette compelled them to deescalate even mild conflicts. “I wish to answer you. Our offices monopolized the time of the project managers, and I personally wish to apologize for not allowing them to contact any of you. They were consulting with our offices on the proposals as late as yesterday in preparation for this meeting.” 

The representative from the Administrative and Project Office made Aafia’s heart sink as she said, “This should not have happened. Who was supporting the project managers’ in the administrative tasks?” More comments of disapproval. “The Interplanetary Office should have been monitoring them. How did this happened?” 

This was spinning out of control. Kiran butted in, “The first goal was to formulate a coherent plan from the unfinished work left by the previous project managers. How the project managers did this was not my concern, and I do not regret my decision to let them work in this manner.” There was now a sustained background hum of people talking and remarking in the crowd. 

“We should be honest. We are very happy to have the consulates as part of our community, but they also part of why the city has taken so long to update the site. Why did you not provide a better buffer between the project managers and the consuls?”

Oh no, Gangless put his hand on Ianiot to stop the other from talking. “Administrator!” he barked, “the consulates are not responsible for the trajectory or failures of previous project managers! Dr. Aslan chose her replacements, and we cannot be help responsible for their inadequacy! The Tellerite government has been highly cooperative and forthright in our proceedings with this project, and I will remind you that our agreement with the city of Quetta is that the city takes full ownership of the fate of our building! My people and I have been at the mercy of the city from the moment we arrived.” 

The buzz of murmurs continued. “Consul, I understand, but that does not entitle you to the project managers’ time—” 

“I also stand by our frequent work with the consuls,” said Talok, and this seemed out of character as he often would let someone finish their words. “We should allow Dr. Jalal to move forward with our presentation.”

The administrator sneered. “I will not move forward with anything until I understand who is providing support to the project managers. Instead of one, we now have two, and one of them is from off-world. This requires special support. I am certain the consuls will agree that they need changes to the site. I should be allowed to ask questions about where this project is going.” 

“Oh!” Gangless, in a great faux pas, now stood on his seat. “All of this sudden concern about the site over the things we asked! You knew where the project managers were! Interplanetary Office has always had full discretion over our building, and you knew they had been forced to beg! For proposals! Where were you for the past year?” 

Aafia didn’t think it could get any worse. Then she saw Gangless punctuate his point by pulling a house slipper from his back pocket and gestured at the administrator. She remembered his grand flaw: it wasn’t simply that Gangless liked to argue; he wanted to get under someone’s skin while arguing as a tactic for winning. 

Booing. The administrator stared agape. 

And then, Khalil. He marched over to the dais. Aafia rushed from the lectern, just narrowly reaching the space between him and the dais where Gangless still brandished his slipper. “He cannot do that!” said Khalil, trying to dodge around her and grasping for the slipper which the consul kept flicking out of his reach.

The three of them were now in a strange dance: Gangless taunting Khalil, Khalil dodging her, and she desperate to keep the two of them apart. “Now everyone, we can just sit down—” “Dr. Jalal, this man should take his seat!” 

“Please, we just need to show everyone the rest of the diagrams—” “Aafia, he should apologize!” She felt something falling in her hair and tried to adjust it while staying between them. She had to keep her hands behind her head to check what had happened. 

Khalil boldly lunged for an opening. Aafia did her best to swing around and stop him.

KRK!

A collective gasp, then the murmurs grew into a thunderous din. 

“AGH!” She yelped at the spasm through her arm from hitting that “just wrong” spot on her elbow. She needed to assure everyone she was fine.

Amid the chaos of people clambering to see what had happened, Khalil was holding his face. He stared at her with horror as a long line of blood dripped from his nose. He sounded so betrayed when he said, “You, you broke my nose.” 

A sea of people swirling around them. Hands on her. Two public safety officers, each with an arm around her torso and a hand interlaced with hers, briskly walked her around the dais and to the closest exit. In the madness of the room, she heard the mayor arguing with someone. “Start the iftar now! I don’t care about sundown! Do it!” 

The two officers brought her to the back hallway and into the dressing room. “How are you?” asked one while the other pulled out a small cold pack from his bright blue uniform. She could still hear the faint roar of the confusion in the banquet hall. “We had to take you out. The people in there are surrounding the young man to keep him safe, but we will need to sort through the incident. Stay here and tell my partner everything you can remember right now.”

Even as she recounted the incident, the events were already fading in her memory. Aafia must have elbowed Khalil in the face, but obviously it was an accident. He would know that, right? She couldn’t have him and any of the consuls come to blows with each other. He would understand. Right? Khalil knew this was a very important task. He’d forgive her for this obvious accident and they’d go home together just like they had planned. ….Right? 

The first safety officer came back right as the second one finished taking her statement. “Dr. Jalal, good news. Mr. Amr understands that this was an accident. He will let you see him whenever you like, and we have everything we need for our reports.” 

After thanking the officers, she burst into the back hallway to find Khalil with a medic using one of those medical tricorders. He was blotting his face with a kerchief while the medic chimed, “Give me twenty more seconds and your nose will be good as new.” 

Aafia hung back. Only when they were alone did she approach. 

The moment Khalil saw her, his eyes widened. “Are you alright?” Moment ago, his nose was broken, and still he was asking her how she was!

She was grinning and blushing. “I came over to ask you the same—“

“Aafia, uh, listen.” He still dabbed up the blood. “I, uh, so. I really do not understand how you could allow someone to act like that. The consul knew what he was doing, and, I guess I just do not really understand your job. I thought the meeting would be easy for you. And I know that this is really important and you have to do what is best. But, that was unacceptable. I don’t care who he was. He needed to be put in his place, and you didn’t let me do that.” 

She couldn’t even begin to form a response. 

Khalil didn’t wait for her. “You are smart and sexy and anyone would be lucky to have you. But I do not like you enough to find out if I should expect another elbow to the face.” Walking away, he called over his shoulder, “Let’s be strictly friends.” 

Venturing back into the vacated dressing room, she grabbed her satchel and did everything she could to avoid anyone as she frantically looked for the exit. 

The door she found opened to a street she didn’t recognize. A deep orange sky greeted her, purple clouds stretching like mulberry-stained fingers. Not quite sundown. The street was quiet. Aafia was tired. Pulling off her dupatta and bead shawl to stuff into her satchel, she picked out each of the pins and shook out her hair. She didn’t feel like covering her hair right now. 

After rummaging in her satchel, she found her handheld. She needed to talk to her sister. 

“…Bahija? Hi…No, I’m fine. Actually, no. I’m not…I miss you too. I’m sorry I never call enough...I need to talk….”

The mulberry clouds spread across the sky. A hot, gentle wind blew around the dust of the street as she walked home. 

++++

For the first time in longer than she can remember—before the project, before her post-doctoral work—Aafia ignored her morning wake-up alarms. It was liberating to slam her hand on the snooze button over and over until the alarm gave up. Her small bed felt so comfortable. Why had she been working so hard? She never got to enjoy the motes that swirled in sunbeams on her floor rug or the birds that alighted on her window sill. 

Mrs. Mehra knocked on her door when she didn’t come down for breakfast. Aafia thought about not answering at all, but she didn’t want to worry the kind old woman. A bit of clever lying through the door later, she convinced Mrs. Mehra to leave her breakfast on a covered plate next to the door. Aafia hadn’t decided if she would eat today. She realized that it had been almost a year since she did not work at all. Maybe she should try doing it again tomorrow. 

Mid-morning and another knock at her door. She had been loung on her side, immersed in a comic series that everyone in graduate school recommended but she never bothered with. Whoever they were, they didn’t knock like Mrs. Mehra. She would pretend she hadn’t heard. 

“Aafia, please open your door.” Her heart turned to butterflies. Talok. 

“Just a moment!” she squeaked. The least she could do was brush out her hair. And also put on some clothes. Robe? No, real clothes.

In a T-shirt and long, soft shorts, she answered the door to find Talok presenting her with the plate of breakfast Mrs. Mehra had left. “This was meant for you. If I understand Mrs. Mehra, you have not eaten at all today. Nourishment is important.”

She could only look as far as his strong chin as she took the plate. Checking the food meant she wouldn’t have to look at him at all. “Oh, come in.” She hoped he wouldn’t comment on the messy state of her room. 

“Why did you not come to the office at our agreed time?” 

Looking at him and answering the question at the same time was impossible. “Not feeling well.” 

“An illness.” She heard the eye-crinkle in his voice. “How could you develop an illness this morning when you were healthy last evening?” 

Her back was on him when she sat at her messy desk with the plate. “It happens sometimes. To humans.” 

“I think you are lying to me.” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Turning around to him, she let her hair fall across her face like a protective shroud. “I think you should continue the project without me.” 

Talok stood by the door which he had courteously closed. “Respectfully, I disagree. Our continued collaboration is in the best interest of the project.” 

“Is it?” She threw her hands in her lap. “After last night, the mayor herself may ask me to leave. If I leave first, no one will ask.” 

“I do not understand.” That brow-crease, both reassuring and frustrating. “This course of action is not best for the project. Our continued work together is the only logical outcome.” 

“Why don’t you see how terrible last night was!” Where to even start? The interruptions, the way he took over leading the meeting before she could really begin, their lack of real preparation, the way everyone angrily piled on them—to say nothing of Khalil. But she was bone-tired and just wanted to be left alone right now. Sighing, she turned away from him once more. “It doesn’t even matter. I will not come back. I have done enough.” 

Before she could dig into her food, her chair whirled around underneath her. Aafia clung to the seat for dear life. “Talok!” she yelped. 

He picked up her travel trunk with the ease of someone picking up an empty milk bottle. Placing it in front of her, he used it as a seat so they could be near eye-level. The baleful eye-crinkle. “Aafia,” he began. “My skill and expertise is in the creation of buildings. I do not doubt my ability to learn everything that you know and become your equal, possibly surpass you.” 

She had never heard a more aggravated silence. “However. The amount of time required for me to both learn what you know and continue the project alone would add years and keep me away from Homeworld for longer than I can allow. Perhaps if I gave up food and sleep and any contact with my family in service of learning and continue the project, it could be done. I do not intend this course of action.” 

He looked away from her, revealing the severity of the eye-crinkle. If she hadn’t been reminded time and time again that Vulcans always control their emotions so as to never rise to them, she would believe that he was angry with her. “If you expect me to beg, I will not. That is the refuge of emotional and illogical beings, and I am neither. I will only express facts: your presence is vital to the project. If you wish to leave, I will not stop you. However, you must do so in an orderly manner which transfers all of your duties to a replacement.” He was prideful too. 

In all their time together, she had never seen this side of him. 

“Aafia.” His tone sharpened. “I will leave you now. I expect to see you at our office in ten minutes.”

Talok left without waiting for her reply, the door slamming behind him. A moment later, the door opened a little before closing once more with far greater control. 

Ten minutes later, she was hurrying across their campus in a dress and pants she reserved for hiking trips. No time for her hair, so she opted for the dupatta from last night. Hopefully no one would notice or comment. She hadn’t even had time for a braid.

She called out as she opened the door, “Talok? I wanted—”

All seven consuls rushed her like parents seeing a child who had been wandering out of their sight for hours, questions all running together in a river of reprieve. “Are you well?” “That young man!” “Are you injured?” “Was he angry?” “He understood, right?” “Did you eat?” And so on and so on. She couldn’t focus on any one of them long enough to answer, and turning to address all of them made her head spin. 

Kiran came to her aid. “Quiet, quiet, give her some room! Good, like that.” Kiran patted her shoulder. “We thought you had quit.” 

For a moment, she caught sight of Talok; working at his console, his back to the rest. “No, no,” she said, trying to convince both them and herself. “I would never do that.” 

“Dr. Jalal!” Gangless pushed his way toward her before kneeling at her feet. “You saved me months of forms, involvement of my own government, and possibly stopping all the work that you had done!” He pressed his head to the ground. “Accept my gratitude. The Tellerite government accepts your leadership on the improvements to our consulate wholly and without pretense. We are committed to a plan which allows you and Master Architect Talok the freedom you both require for your work.” 

When he rose, the others performed their own gestures of supplications whether formal salutes, bows, or even smearing dirt on the cheeks. 

Kiran already had the handkerchief ready before the first sob shuddered through her. Aafia buried her face. Hands guided her into a chair. All the stress and pain had been a tight ball inside her, and crying unraveled every string. More than anything, it felt cleansing. 

“Oh, Doctor,” cooed Utyra, petting her head. “Your boy-love left without you last night?”

“Yes!” she bawled. “A-and, and I want him back!” She hiccuped her words. “And, and the project has been very stressful, a-and what will happen, I never know! What if we never finish! What if they tell us to leave! And, and, and I miss my family s-so, so much!” 

So many arms encircled her. Inside her emerged warm small birds that moved up and down her body, kissing the tips of her toes and fingers. Her tears slowed and stopped as she found Holloya and Ianiot on each side, Asyhl and Mwit nearby, Utyra and Gangless’ hands on her back. Even Koss kept close.

No words were needed. 

Only when she had reached peace of mind did they release her and move back to give her space. 

“Last night—well, last night was not good,” said Kiran, addressing them. “But with your advocacy to the mayor, no one will intervene to take over the project.” The consuls had demanded that she stayed. She thought she may start crying again. “We need another way to present the plans and give the community a reason to support the project. I can ask the Parks director to host our end-of-summer festival along the streets bordering our site. It will not be easy and dependent on the consulates offering resources and labor on the day of the festival. Not to worry, I still have friends. Tell your staff to invite their families. That includes Dr. Jalal and you, Talok.” 

Words of delight. Talok had joined the group now but kept himself along the fringe. “I recommend that we do not add to our current plans. Rather, we should consolidate. We must also make preparations for outreach efforts to better communicate our intent with the community.” Their eyes met as he added, “These efforts do not require the rigorous schedule we have maintained.” 

Kiran nodded with resolve. “We should leave you to your work. I will assign one of my staff to take on your scheduling and some administrative work—I should have sooner.” 

The consuls filed out noisily with their usual bustle of chatter. And then, they were alone. 

She had to ask. “Did you know?” 

“They came as one group and would not leave before speaking with you. Thus, I sought you out.” 

“...Did you mean what you said?” 

He walked back to his work station. “You are asking the wrong question. I stated facts. There is no meaning to discern.” A stern and haughty tone. 

Better to not press him. “Thank you for—I mean….Thank you.” 

His voiced sweetened for a fleeting moment. “There is no need for further discussion.” 

Aafia retrieved the prayer rug from their shelves to pray at first and then to simply meditate before moving into the workday. She wanted to walk over and put a chaste kiss on his cheek. But after that night in their office, even innocent hand-holding felt inappropriate.

For now, his presence was enough.


	7. Sisters' Day Out

Teach me, O tear,  
Reach my soul,  
Secret of the sparkle  
Happy or morose  
\-- Amanullah Khan

++++

“Cucumber ice cream! Are your parents here too?” Mrs. Mehra on her stoop under a white tent shading them from the summer heat. In her hands, two cups piled up with melon-green mounds garnished with crushed mint leaves.

Bahija took both cups. “I think we’re staying with—who is the man? Mr. Belluh. The man on the corner from here.”

Kiran’s miracle worked: The Balochistan Unity Festival took up the neighborhoods around the consulates’ complex, a neighborhood mostly settled by the elder or sickly members of the community for its easy access to one of the city’s hospital. Instead of complaining, the members of the neighborhood embraced the responsibility of hosting everyone not just in Quetta but across the region from Gwadar on the coast to Sherani up higher into the mountains.

“Tell your abbu and ammi to come see me before they leave!” called Mrs. Mehra with a grin. “Drink your water too!”

This street had been designated a rest area with all of the elders offering food or water or lounge chairs outside their houses. The two strolled along with their ice cream, not going anywhere in particular so they could dawdle to see what everyone else was doing. One old man had a hookah with tea. Three sisters had set up tables where they taught children the board games their ancestors played. Above them, the sun beat down but the ice cream briefly cooled them.

Bahija’s wedge-heeled sandals accentuated her height; she was already 10 cm taller than Aafia without them. It was superfluous but it was what her sister liked. “It was nice of Khalil to say hello,” she mused, carefully licking ice cream off her spoon.

“I do not think we will stay friends, though.” It was too hot to worry about looking nice, and Aafia opted for her fieldwork clothes and keeping her hair in a single braid bundled up in a bun. “He’s not as exciting as he was when we were having sex.”

She shrugged in agreement. “Well, let’s find you a boy here.”

Aafia wasn’t sure if she was in the mood for that, but she had to admit: Bahija’s colorful and wild aesthetic always caught people’s attention, and she used the attention for the noble task of helping her friends find ‘love-boys’ or ‘love-girls.’ After hearing the consuls say that, Aafia could not stop using the phrases either. “Why not? It should be fun.”

Inviting her family up was the best idea anyone had given her. At least, for a time. “Oh, so when do I meet this off-worlder you work with?” Her devious tone said more than the question itself.

“Soon, but be nice, please?”

“Is he cute?” She grinned as another dollop disappeared into her mouth. “Ooh, no, I should be asking if he is handsome. Is he?”

Aafia pondered her ice cream. It had suddenly gotten very very hot on the street. “I, well, I guess? Never really noticed. But even so, we work together! So what does it matter?”

“Alright, I get it,” chuckled Bahija. “I still want to meet all of these people.”

They wandered into an area where the street swelled with people and a stage for music techs who mixed and remixed music live, weaving together a pulsing symphony of sound that compelled everyone around them to dance with abandon. The two of them took refuge on the sidewalk among those who were either too nervous to dance yet or catching their breath.

Bahija gasped. “The blue ones! The Andorians!”

Aafia recognized them from Asyhl’s staff. A circle had formed around them where people whistled and cheered while four Andorians had made a flower-shape and danced with a vigor and energy she had only seen them express during winter.

“Ooh, don’t introduce me to anyone yet! I want to see them dancing!”

The sisters shoveled into their mouths the treats as quickly as possible, braving the subsequent ice cream headaches, before starting their scavenger hunt.

The hunt sent the criss-crossing the entire festival grounds, weaving through throngs where people stopped to greet both of them or, of course, talk to Bahija just because she looked interesting. Much to Aafia’s relief, Bahija was more interested in seeing the off-worlders than arranging for a cute boy to notice her sister. They wandered all over, inadvertently experiencing nearly all aspects of the festival.

The Caitain family performed a circle dance with every member, never breaking away from each other until the dance was done. Every movement the Deltans made was slow and deliberate, like swans moving through honey. By contrast, the Tellerites moved as if they felt the music more than heard it; they also incorporated their beverages into their dance. The Risians’ clothes were vital to their dance, using them to add great flourishes to every gesture. The Betazoids perfectly synchronized their choreography, making improvised moves look both effortless and carefully rehearsed.

“Isn’t there one more?” They had ventured onto the edge of the consulates’ complex near the residence building. “Vulcans, right?”

Aafia squinted around. “I remember Koss saying that his people only dance in very special circumstances. This was not one of them.”

“Is that them?” She pointed to a few people standing on the flat roof of the consulates’ complex.

The sisters decided that sneaking up to the roof and hope no one noticed them would be much more fun than asking for permission to impose on the group. Aafia found the service ladder behind the building. After pestering her sister into handing over the wedge-heels to stuff into her satchel, the two clambered up the ladder with Bahija leading.

The heat of the sun beat down relentlessly on the roof, but the breeze was just a little cooler up here. Aafia caught sight of Koss and his staff along with the consul’s family and a handful of brand new Vulcans she assumed were family members of the staff, including a few children. From here, it look liked the Vulcans had decided to have their own festival separated from everyone else: food on decorated tables; a few low tables with games for children where parents attentively watched over the little ones; adults keeping their same severe demeanor but using more fluid, relaxed movements.

“Aafia.” Every time. Butterflies.

“Talok!” Ignoring her sister’s devilish smirk, she rushed to where he stood with two other people, a man his age with softer features than he and a stiff young woman perhaps her sister’s age. Both wore mahogany-colored suits with the Vulcan version of a Nehru collar. “We have been looking for you!” She hated how excited she must sound, but she couldn’t help it. To have him meet her sister meant the world to her. They were such close friends now, so why shouldn’t he?

He wore the ochre caftan and trousers that she remembered from the day they met and an enormous sky-blue shawl draped around him in so many folds such that he looked like a desert flower. “My youngest daughter T’Saan. Her mother’s husband, Stron.”

In their short bows, Aafia saw the very meaningful eye contact her sister gave for a moment before turning to the new people. Oh no. Stron spoke first, hesitating as he chose his words. “I do not know your language,” he apologized with a heavy accent. “I seek to be respectful. Talok talks of you often. You have taught him many things.”

T’Saan added with a similar accent, “He Who Is My Father speaks of you with respect. He tells us of the things you teach him. This is important to us who are his children.”

Like a heroine leaping into battle, Bahija took on the mantle of leading the conversation. “My sister tells me about your family, but I do want to know how you are connected to Talok.” Well, she couldn’t expect Bahija to always be discreet. But even with off-worlders, Bahija was magnetic and the three were talking while Aafia and Talok kept quiet and observed.

In a fleeting moment, she saw Talok when he didn’t think she was watching him; etched on his features was the adoration she saw on the face of Mwit with the family that made up her staff or on the face of Asyhl with the children he and his spouses looked after. The look she saw on the faces of parents watching children play football on the green of their site. Like everything about him, she couldn’t explain in a few words to anyone what she was seeing because everything about him was always subsumed below the surface. But something in his eyes and the slight pull at the corner of his mouth, his gaze trained on T’Saan, revealed all.

One second she had glanced away at the shadow of the mountains against the blue sky. The next, she found Talok flanking her. “I have new information regarding the project,” he murmured in her ear.

Aafia checked on the trio who enthusiastically chatted away. They were fine. “Oh, what is it?”

He motioned to the ladder from whence they came.

As they climbed down the ladder, she briefly thought about the possibility that he meant to share something extremely private and vulnerable about himself. The idea of being keeper to his secrets excited her.

The portico of the building offered much-needed shade with the sun near its zenith. “What is it you wanted to tell me?” She billowed her shirt just a little to help evaporate the sweat all over her.

“I encountered the leader for the Historic Architectural Review Board this morning. The Board will not accept our plans for the complex.”

All the tension she had been able to drop in the past few months now came rushing into her back. “Why?”

“They will not accept changes to the structures which they claim compromise the historical integrity of the buildings. They will not allow additional levels or expanding the footprint of the buildings.”

Aafia clutched her head. “No, no, all of our work….”

“They will only allow creation of new structures—” “Oh no, no, no—” “The options they have proposed are that we annex the homes along the site’s border—” “Talok, no, grandparents live in those houses—” “—or we eliminate the greenhouse in favor of the housing we had planned.”

Music pulsed in the distance. She went to her knees. Feeling trapped and with no other recourse, she grabbed her satchel and opened it.

Screaming into her satchel until her face was numb wouldn’t solve any problems. But it did make her feel a tiny bit better.

Up from the roof, she heard her sister very loudly chime, “She is fine! Tell me more about your family!”

Talok’s brow held that soft, frustrating crease. “These are the options they have offered. They will not change their position.” He didn’t even have the decency to say I’m sorry.

“What. What did I do to you?” she seethed.

The crease deepened. “Aafia, it was my duty to convey this information to you—”

“That is not even the point!” How could he do this to her? “I was having a very good day! I was relaxed for the first time since I took on the project! I thought everything was fine, and then you tell me, you tell me this!”

His expression hardened into stoic disdain. “I will not engage someone who behaves illogically.” How dare he turned away from her!

“No! I am not finished!” She rushed to face him, but he turned away once more. “I will not be ignored!” Again, he turned. “I am talking to you! I said, I am talking to you! Stop ignoring me! Stop!” Again, he turned away.

Pretty quickly, she realized that Talok’s patience for disengaging her was vast compared to her determination to be noticed. After the tenth or eleventh turn, she let him turn away from her. “Fine, I know what you want,” she huffed. “I will be calm.”

He did not turn back.

“I told you! I am calm now.” Clearly that wasn’t enough. Taking a deep breath, she found her level voice. “I will not yell anymore.” She needed to do more. She needed to do the right thing. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “I should not have yelled at you.”

His head tilted slightly toward her.

She realized that there was something else she had never said. Shoving her hands in her shorts pockets would stop her from fidgeting, she began. "I never apologized to you for trying to leave the project without telling you." She would not look away from him, no matter how much she wanted to. “That was wrong. I should not have made that decision without thinking about who else would be affected, and I am sorry.”

“I aim to always share information that both of us must have to complete this project.” At last, they were facing each other again. He still kept the little eye-crinkle; she wasn’t absolved just yet. “I expect you to do the same.”

“Of course, of course,” she agreed. “I promise.”

“Do not promise. Simply do it.”

“Right, right, right.”

His tone turned gentler. “I could not risk your trust by keeping this new development to myself and allowing you to find out through other means. If you had not found me, I would have sought you out before evening. I knew that the development would engender intense emotion in you.”

“Wait.” She squinted at him. “Is that why you asked me to come down here?”

A new expression: the sly raise of an eyebrow. “Yes.” Being angry at him over this was pointless since he had been proven right. And perhaps for the best so she didn’t embarrass herself in front of his family. The expression dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. “There is something else. A single administrator cannot do all of the work we need completed. We must ask for our own staff.”

To this, she whined, “No, please, do we have to?” This was their project, this very special and important thing that they shared. What was going to happen if more people got involved?

“We must ask the city government as I am not allowed to send for any of my former apprentices from Homeworld.”

The least she could do was support him on this front instead of fighting. “I will agree to this, but only if I am allowed to pick them.”

“We shall both select our staff members.”

“That is a better idea.” Now she thought about grabbing her sister and going very far away from here to not think about this until late at night when she tried drifting off to sleep. “Well, I will fetch Bahija, and we will be on our way.”

The soft crease of confusion. “My daughter expressed curiosity about your family, and she is currently speaking with your sister. I believe we should not interfere.” The crease deepened. “Do you have another obligation?”

“Actually.” She listened to everything around them until she heard her sister’s laugh from high up on the rooftop. “I do not.”

“We have not dined together as friends this year. I recall the evening was—” the shadow of a smile “...an education. Let us find a place to sit and talk. I wish to learn more about the dances of your people.”


	8. A Night With the Consuls

Last night I dreamt  
Of angels descending into the tavern  
Taking the clay of Adam  
They fashioned a cup  
and the dwellers of heaven  
Sat with me  
And the heady brew was passed around.  
\--Hafiz Shirazi

++++

An impatient knock at the office door broke Aafia’s focus. The rule: whoever closest had the duty of answering the visitor. Thick privacy curtains covered the windows. The break would do her some good. She rose from her seat, expecting a member of their staff to have ventured over from the self-powered, self-contained mobile office which had been plopped on the green next to their building.

“Dr. Jalal,” chirped Asyhl happily. “An invigorating morning, yes?” Snow dusted his bare collarbone. She recognized his outfit as the type his people wore for sport and recreation.

Talok stood in respect while tugging down the hem of his blue knitted cap to cover more of his ears. “Consul, our administrator did not tell us you arranged an appointment with us today.”

Aafia felt the cold nipping her face. “Please come in.” The moment he stepped onto the large floor mat they reserved for knocking grit and snow off shoes, she swiftly closed the door.

“I come to you with an invitation.” Grinning, he saluted in his people’s way. “I, Asyhl th’Rothress, Hand of the Ambassador in service to the Empire of Andor, invite Dr. Jalal and Master Architect Talok to partake in an evening with celebrates the bonds of friendship and cooperation our people have deemed vital to each other’s enlightenment.”

Much as the invitation touched her, she remembered the last time Asyhl invited them to something…. “Oh, Consul, I am honored, but I know so little of diplomatic customs.”

“Neither should trouble yourselves over your ignorance,” he chuckled, waving off the concern. “We consuls gather at least once per year to socialize without the obligations of our office. Previous years, we invited Kiran. He cannot attend. However, I understand from your administrator that you both are without evening appointments.” They should have suspected he would already walk in knowing they couldn’t give him excuses so easily.

She looked over at Talok. That soft brow crease. Long moments passed before he asked, “Where will this gathering be held?”

“Hanna Lake. A large residence and recreation place created at the same time as these buildings. Recent updates. A very good place when it is necessary to temporarily lay down the heavy arms of diplomacy.” He smiled as if they’d already said yes. “You will meet us at sundown in the foyer of the residence building, yes?”

How could they refuse? “Should I bring anything?” ventured Aafia.

“We will provide you with every comfort you may desire. Bring the comforts that you think we may not know to provide.” He opened the door to step out. “I am glad that you will both attend.”

Talok walked toward the door to stop him. “Consul, I did not yet accept your invitation.”

Asyhl’s smile turned mischievous. “This is true. But I already know I will see both of you at sundown.” He slipped out the door before Talok could say another word.

++++

The Consuls’ Retreat had been carved in the hills around Hanna Lake overlooking the valley. In its highest part, the observatory, was shaped like a milk saucer and made almost entirely of transparent aluminum, jutting so far out from the rest of the rock that standing on it gave the impression of floating in air. The numerous stars outshone the new moon. One could be swallowed up by the cold night.

Aafia heard someone call to her, bringing her out of a reverie. Ianiot was climbing the stairs. “Doctor! Please rejoin us!” His decorated hand alighted gently on her elbow. That usual time in the evening after a meal where guests would tour their hosts’ domicile or partake in after-meal drinks. She came up here after noticing that it hadn’t been part of the earlier tour.

Ianiot tugged at her. “Come, come down to see us.”

“It is so beautiful.” The night called to her. “Why not gather here instead?”

“I would rather not.” The star light glimmered off of his beaded headpiece. “It….well, it makes me very sad to be here at night.” Now she wished she had never suggested it at all. They ventured back down the steps. “The fire is strong in our social room.”

They came to the ‘social room’ as Ianiot called it, the spiraling web of netted lights covering the domed ochre ceiling. Her first tour had given her a cursory look at the space, but now she could take in its details. At the center of the room stood a large ornate hearth where an orange translucent statue of four people in an ecstatic embrace rose high—a possible homage to Andorian marriage. The others gathered on the broad divans around the hearth amid numerous pillows and thick blankets which Aafia recognized as all coming from Balochistan’s artists.

Ianiot led her to sit with Talok before circulating the room; tonight had been his turn to play host, and the Deltan consul had succeeded in creating an evening which expertly combined elegance and fun. “Dr. Jalal, would you care for any brandy?”

“I prefer tea, but thank you,” she said, blushing. She just didn’t like any alcohol, no matter how many times her sister told her that she simply hadn’t find the ‘right one’ yet. It may have been more polite to take the brandy, but she knew she’d only spit it out as soon as the liquid touched her tongue.

The other consuls were already passing around bottles. A variety of colors splashed into their glasses—pale amber to burnt brown. Talok, whose clothes almost blended in with the multicolored pillows and blankets, filled his glass. She wondered if alcohol had the same effect on these off-worlders that it did on humans.

“For you, Dr. Jalal,” announced Ianiot, “and additional cups.” A tea tray and set made by local artists, like everything here.

She wondered if her trip up to the observatory had caused the lull in conversation. The tea set seemed so noisy as she poured out a cup. Then again, it was possible that the telepaths were having their own lively discussion.

Ianiot filled his glass last. “As host tonight, I shall speak briefly: Far from home are we, spinning on a planet we never knew around a star we never charted. The universe is incomprehensible, but it is not at all cold. Darkness is not danger because the darkness only hides friends we have not yet met. Being here, in this darkness, with friends, is the greatest honor of my life.” The consuls gave their own affirmation whether by solemn nod or by hearty shout. “I also want to say to our new friends: when people from different planets work together, their work benefits all of us.”

Aafia couldn’t stop smiling. “Thank you, thank you.”

Mwit squinted at the timepiece on the far wall. “Asyhl, is it too late to speak with your family?”

Mid-sip, Asyhl waved his hand until he could answer. “Before we came to the Retreat, I contacted them.”

Right, his spouses and children. Everyone seemed so relaxed here, Aafia decided she could try finally asking the questions that seemed inappropriate before. “How did you meet your spouses?”

Asyhl propped himself up against his arm of the divan. “A genetic registry. We were each other’s optimal mates for producing children.”

It was one of the bleakest things the consuls had ever said to Aafia. She maintained a cordial tone. “And this is the way of your people?”

As Ianiot started to speak, Asyhl hushed him. “It is not what we want, but it is our only way to survive. For the good of our people, we keep our union.” She couldn’t tell if he meant his species as a whole or his four-person marriage. “It is weak to ask for help, but….” Maybe he had asked for help anyways, regardless of what anyone else thought about it.

“And you have, what is it, four children?” Steering a parent to the topic of their children always resolved social tension.

This question brightened his mood. “Yes, my zh’yi has no equal for holding four children. All of them are healthy. Even my Pava.” His smile grew defensive. “Yes, she limps, but that was caused by an accident when she was pulled from the pouch, and she healed wrong. She is zha and could carry a child as well as her parent. Not even Death can defeat her.” Anguish mixed with his joy. “And she is clever! She could be our Ambassador if she wanted. She could sit on Council. Anything she wants! She—” He swallowed the words, perhaps overcome.

Gangless gruffly completed the statement. “She needs teachers that do not think she has a defect. Andorian school teaches Andorian traditions, such as anyone who is not able-bodied does not deserve attention to care.”

Asyhl straightened up with a nasty snarl. “Her limp is not her fault! I ask the school to treat her like the other students, and they tell me she may not be allowed to attend because she cannot complete the physical tests!” By now he was pounding on pillows the way he punished tables during negotiations. “She is not wrong. The school is wrong!”

Mwit, sitting next to him, took his hands. “We will create the new school soon,” she said in a soothing, honeyed voice. “I am doing what I can.”

Aafia learned to quickly see when they were continuing a conversation which had started months and years before. Instinct told her that despite every promise they had made to not discuss the project, she couldn’t do the same. She had to know the things that would impact the project. Talok, as if knowing her every thought, spoke before her. “The school is for the children of consuls and staff.”

“Oh yes.” Mwit now massaged the arm of the Andorian consul who had lapsed into silent seething. “My own government trained all of my children and their mates to work in our consulates. The others must send their families to other parts of Earth to find schools which specialize in their cultures. Koss’ family travels the least distance, and they live in Jaisalmer on the other side of the Thar.” It was hundreds of kilometers just to reach the edge of the desert in the East; the Thar was a sea of sand unto itself. The look of empathetic heartache on her face as she stared at the other consul made Aafia feel terrible for every complaint she had ever given about not seeing her own family.

A deep crease in Talok’s brow, and Aafia realized that despite the instant bond he made with the other people from his homeworld, Koss never mention this scheme. “What is preventing creation of this school?”

A chorus of muttering before Mwit answered. “There is a minimum number of students before our governments will provide resources. We determined that to gain support from all seven planets, we need at least thirty students—”

“In order to gain students,” Holloya interjected, “we must first convince our families that there is a school here.” She took a swig from her glass. “Or. Our staff brings their families here from Homeworld.”

She caught the sympathetic glance Talok gave her. “The objective to ensure all staff can reside with their families here is still part of our planning. We will ensure this objective is met.” Somehow….

This was her best chance to change the subject before the consuls started an inquisition. “What other projects are each of your working on?”

The single question gave her a window she’d never imagined into the lives and relationships of these diplomats: because the Tellerites had developed engineering processes for problems no one else had solved, Gangless had asked Koss’ help to bring Tellerite techniques throughout the Federation by way of a civilian corps of artisans; deeply troubled by counterfeit Risian artifacts being used by off-worlders to engage in religious rites under false pretenses, Utyra worked with Holloya to both seek out other species concerned artifact counterfeiting and also redirect sex-based tourism—an important partnership because Betazoid contributed to the sex-based tourism; having drugs and therapies to make other species less compulsively aroused by Deltans would do so much to improve their collaboration across the Federation, and Ianiot had asked Asyhl for help as an exercise in teaching each other to be more open to other cultures; Mwit took on a partnership with Kiran’s department on behalf of the other consuls, and her efforts are why Talok had even known about their need for an architect.

While listening, her eyes wandered over to Talok who kept his gaze always on the one speaking. However, she noticed a small keyed hand-size tablet under a gap in his folds; his thumb furiously typed without pause. It seemed conspicuous from her angle. Of course. He did it for her own peace of mind. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine working with anyone else.

“—and I must say, having Talok as architect has given us access to far more resources,” continued Mwit. “I know that you are not long for this planet, Master Architect, but do not underestimate the impact you have already made.”

The hand-sized tablet disappeared into the folds. “I am honored by your confidence and trust.”

Steer the conversation away from the project. Anything to keep them from clambering for answers. “Were all of you matched with your spouses based on genetics?”

To this, Gangless snorted into his drink. “Hah! No, no, that is an Andorian necessity. Many of us chose our mates.” Finishing up his current beverage, he snatched up the decanter. “I found mine during a celebration on Homeworld. I have never met one such as he. Hah, it is sensible that he became tired of me and dissolved our union.” Better to not pursue that line of questioning.

Holloya raised her glass in agreement. “My wife and I are agreed that we are not married but we are partners in educating our children. It is by courtesy only that she stays on Earth.”

Utyra was refilling her own glass. “My partner helped discover the counterfeit artifacts.” She wore a far-off smile. “I suppose it was improper to pursue someone I worked with, but she was irresistible. We contact each other twice a day.”

The mention brought to Aafia’s mind that moment in their office during spring. She should forget it. Meanwhile Mwit enjoined, “Oh, I also met my husband through our service We both are from families of diplomats, and we were a natural match. I cannot think of life without him.”

Ianiot’s soft features were so beguiling in the fire’s light. His shy smile still made her blush. Her attraction was hollow, but she couldn’t help any of it. “I never expected to find my mate. I find that I am still learning what is needed to be a sensible mate, things I wish I had learned when I was young. She is a teacher with no equal.”

She realized that Koss’ answer interested her the most. Well, she should know to better understand her colleague. “She Who Is My Wife came to my home when I was a boy. As children, we were linked. Our parents determined that we were compatible and would produce strong offspring.”

Aafia consciously did not look at Talok. “And this is normal on your planet?” she asked.

Koss took her question thoughtfully. “For the majority of families, yes. I cannot speak to everyone. But it is our custom.” A shadow of a smile. “Our families tested a new philosophy on the process. Our parents brought us together as adolescents, well before our customary time of marriage, and asked us to behave as if our union had been consummated. We lived between both houses and were asked to make every decision together as if we were one. We were encouraged to discuss children and sexual intercourse as it suited us.” He regarded the brandy in his glass. “I believe this philosophy strengthened our union.”

From the way Asyhl eyed her, Aafia knew that she badly hid her horror. Coercing children to confront adulthood so soon? It was...barbaric. To her ears, it sounded like child abuse. Talok either didn’t notice or chose to ignore her. “Yes, She Who Is My Children's Mother follows the same philosophy at the persuasion of her husband when the children were the correct age for betrothal. My own parents did not arrange for me to spend any time with my former spouse before our union. I never understood their logic on the subject.”

While pulling the decanter from Ianiot’s grasp, Koss continued: “I recommend an arrangement with someone on Earth if you have not established one yet.” Aafia nearly spit out her drink and made a point of not looking at Talok. “I recommend that you do not create an arrangement with a human.”

She should consider disengaging altogether for the evening lest she die of embarrassment. Talok inquired, “Is there an issue of biological incompatibility I should know?”

“No. However.” Only now did she hear that Koss—she couldn’t believe it—was slightly under the influence. It was such a subtle change, not in his tone but his wording. “Our ambassador, many years ago, took a human as his mate. His complaints about his mate were unceasing. His complaints about the child from this mate as well as the human he adopted were equally relentless. His mate dies. For reasons that the universe will not reveal to me, the ambassador takes a second human as his mate, and his complaints continue. I will not listen to another complaint about the illogic of humans.”

Holloya chortled as if she’d heard Koss bring this up many times before. “Talok, ignore him. Your possibilities are limited only by your creativity.” Her voice turned smokey and sly. “You understand, yes? We have an arrangement among ourselves.”

A withering eye-crinkle. “I was not aware of this.” Perhaps something had been lost in translation when Asyhl first explained the gathering. Oh no, she didn’t eve know the anatomy of any of the species here. She needed an excuse right away to extract herself as quickly as possible. Oh, and she should probably try to take Talok with her as well—

Ianiot interrupted her frantic thoughts. “We are using the word differently from what you believe.”

“Are we, Iani?” Holloya peeled down a little bit of lace to expose her shoulder.

His pale face blushed. “You promised!” he whined under his breath before addressing them once more. “We believe that Earth is not Homeworld and should be treated as such. Whatever happens here, so long as it is not immoral or illegal, we do not speak of to anyone on Homeworld.” That interaction would need dissection at a later time for different reasons….

Talok’s eye-crinkle remained. “I thank you, but that is not necessary.”

Koss gestured for the nearest bottle with a hint of impatience. “Make your selection carefully. Your cycle is the normal seven years Standard. Do not proceed with haste. It would be illogical.” His tone made it clear that he was losing interest in this topic.

By not speaking, Aafia had effectively disappeared and could now observe everyone as they behaved without her. Conversation continued but Talok didn’t speak right away. Instead, his gaze fell to the stairs leading up to the observatory....A sign of shame. But the moment passed before he turned back and jumped into the discussion.

The stars moved in the heavens while elegant bottle after elegant bottle appeared on tea tables near the divans. She chose to keep quiet as before and let them forget that she was around unless addressed directly. Never had she expected to learn so much about their professional and private lives. Years later, a few choice anecdotes stood out from the evening: Holloya reminded Koss that her own superior, Betazed’s ambassador, was a woman without discriminating taste and could have steered Vulcan’s ambassador away from the perils of courting humans; Ianiot shared the Deltan’s philosophy on monogamy and its best practices; Gangless recounted a self-effacing story about an encounter shortly after his mate chose another.

At times she felt uncomfortable hearing these details. This circle around the fire was a sacred space for the consuls to shed professional and cultural masks, helped by the “unreality” that Talok described to her. She considered a few exercises before bed to prevent her from remembering much of the evening as a means of protecting the consuls. No matter how many questions or inquiries, these felt like things that must never be repeated beyond the walls of this room. Aafia understood now the camaraderie between the consuls and Kiran; the languishing state of the consulates’ complex created a cascade of events which sometimes pulled away the consuls to take on small assignments in very dangerous places. To become a consul at all meant years and years spent in great peril. As much as they schemed against each other and fought little proxy battles, they wanted to stay on Earth with each other almost as much as they wanted to eventually return to Homeworld.

In the depth of the cold night, Aafia stood on a porch cut from the hills itself at the entrance of guest lodgings joined together with the main Retreat underground. The consuls had dispersed for the evening. Lamps affixed to the rock and around the porch gave a dim red glow so as to not ruin one’s night vision. Her thick hijab fell all around her neck and shoulders to give her some warmth.

From the darkness came a figure clad like the colorful divans in the Retreat, a veil over their face and tight cap over their head.

She smiled, rubbing her gloved hands. “I thought you would not come.”

“We did not agree on a place to meet.” Talok didn’t pull down the veil. “My knowledge of you and our shared interests brought me here.” Half-finger gloves on his own hands, he proffered a data stick. She remembered from somewhere that his people found something gouache or unseemly about wearing full gloves. “I wrote in my native language for speed. Please ask the questions you may have.”

She gingerly took the data stick. “The computers here will help me translate.” Now she was torn; as much as she wanted to talk to him, she equally wanted to get out of the cold and read through what he had written.

“The Deltan and Betazoid consuls confronted me as we dispersed but only to tell me that I should ask if I needed clarifications. I expected them to know I was taking notes, although I successfully hid from them when I was and was not taking notes.”

“This is good. They trust us.” She finally felt that she could trust them too. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” A heavy, uncharacteristic pause. “We spoke of an arrangement this evening. And previous evenings.”

Her heart raced and warmed her chest, but her hands and feet went so very cold. Somehow she managed a sound to encourage him. The porch evened out their heights to bring them eye-to-eye.

The red light darkened the sliver of exposed skin around his eyes to a marvelous hue. “Before any arrangement can be discussed, I should discuss another matter. Koss asserted my cycle is seven years Standard. This cycle length is normal for our population. He is not wrong, but he has misrepresented me.” From the evening, Aafia had pieced together that this mysterious ‘cycle’ was a biological need, possibly reproductive. Beyond that, she knew little else. “My natural cycle is four years Standard.” The slightest strain in his voice. “Medical intervention extends it to seven years Standard.”

“Is this a problem?” she asked, letting her voice go a little too high.

Even with the veil around his face, the shadows exaggerated his subtle expressions. The same expression she saw when he was taking a private moment. “I am not kind at the end of each cycle.” The wind whistled against the eves of the porch. “I am...illogical. And with the medical intervention, these aspects are magnified.” The Consuls Retreat was its own reality. A mask was being drawn away.

Talok seemed to stare through her. “There are many aspects of my union with T’Pai which made it unsustainable.” The fog of his breath passed through the veil around his face.

He spoke plainly on every other topic except himself. She frowned in thought. “Was your ‘cycle’ one of those aspects?”

Talok tugged at his cloak to keep out the wind. “Yes.”

She had to wipe the snot from her nose which kept running from the cold. “Why?”

His gaze fell to the nearly frozen ground. That shame from before was now naked. He picked his words the way she’d seen him daintily pick up food. “At the end of a Vulcan cycle, we reveal the worst of our character. To behave this way once every four years Standard is not...conducive to maintaining a family.”

Well that certainly didn’t make much sense. She was still piecing together what this meant. “The worst of your character...such as being ecstatic and then angry without reason? Your mood changing in ways you cannot control? Ignoring the needs of others?”

His eyes widened in recognition. “Yes,” he replied as if she had touched his soul.

“Well, people on Earth experience that too!” she laughed even as a shiver of the cold went through her. “Myself, my sister, one of her boyfriends, at least half of all humans!”

Talok leaned toward her, vibrato in his voice. “I did not know that humans are also compelled by a biological cycle.”

“Yes, monthly! Don’t you notice?”

Even with all the layers around his face, she saw the brow-crease. “Yes. You are most illogical at certain times during the lunar phases, and your mood is subject to drastic changes. I suspected a cyclical nature to this behavior but lacked evidence. And this would also explain the ferrous scent—”

“Right, right, no need to discuss further.” She underestimated the acuity of his sense of smell. “Know this: I struggle with myself, and I must find people who forgive me when I am at my worst.” The way Talok had already many times before. “I have no doubt that you will find the same.” The wind put another shiver in her spine; were it not for the wind, she could tolerate the cold just fine.

A wisp of a smile. “Your wisdom should be self-evident to me. And yet, I did not see it until now.”

Somehow she felt both too hot and too cold. “...What—ah—what were we discussing before?”

“An arrangement.”

“Oh right! Right. Yes. An arrangement.” Take charge! “I remember you made, well, a persuasive case for us to have such an arrangement.” She daringly reached out to touch his shoulder for a few brash moments. “Your logic was sound.”

“I did not provide you with all the available information at the time.” He drew closer as he stifled a shudder of his own. “The consuls neither discourage nor encourage. It appears that they do not consider this a subject of their concern.”

Instinctively she pulled herself as close as possible so they could huddle together. “Perhaps that was before they trusted us.” She saw her breath mingle with his.

“That is possible.” She heard the stamp of his boots to keep warm. “Aafia. I will not guess at your response. I must know with certainty.”

Fortune favors the bold. “I think an arrangement would benefit us both. We should do what is logical.”

“Then we shall do what is logical.” Without warning, he pulled away. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Wait!” She caught his hand and seemed to catch him off-guard. “Why not just come inside here?”

“I do not understand.” A deep furrow of confusion. “Aafia, I did not imply that we should initiate our arrangement this evening. We still have much to discuss.”

“No, no, no!” she scoffed, now tugging at his sleeve with her other hand. “I just want to review your notes with you. And—” Say it! “—and, well, you are my friend. Are you not?”

A blistering gust of wind pushed them closer. “I will follow you. Some of my notes may not translate well.” He stepped up onto the porch. Things were back to normal.

Aafia kept an arm looped around him. They hurried down the small cave created from the porch. The best thing to do right now was change the subject. “So, Ianiot and Holloya—”

“Have an arrangement? Yes.” He held the door for her. “I understand it is one with many restrictions and rules.”

“I keep thinking I know the consuls. How long has this been going on?...”


	9. Oh! The Sweet Night and Gentle Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the following scene, I've marked this piece "Mature" so as to keep things above board. Enjoy!

Heart's yearning unexpressed   
Pristine bouquets left to dry  
Both wisdom and timidity  
Are the nemeses of the heart

Laying yearning on the altar  
Is irreverent and prohibited  
Sovereign heart makes the rules   
In the dominion of the love  
\--Amanullah Khan

++++

And that was that. Aafia and Talok had an arrangement. 

Of course, not another word of it passed between them since the Consuls’ Retreat. Boundaries. Preferences. She could only guess at the building blocks of this new relationship. 

Talok did not broach the subject. But as winter’s snow melted, she swore, so did the shell around his heart. He tapped her shoulder, brief and light, whenever he came near. His glances were sly and playful whenever they worked late. And whenever they bid farewell at the end of each long work day, his words turned from “goodnight” to “I shall see you tomorrow.” 

The midday call to prayer gave her the necessary excuse to take a break. Rolling up the office prayer rug after using it, she announced, “I will be back.” 

Talok looked up from his work. “Is it time for your midday meal?” 

She assumed he had lost track of time from being so focused. “Yes, and I was thinking of running an errand. Do you need anything while I am out?” 

He stood from his desk. “I understand that you often dine with Kiran’s staff. Would they allow me to join you?” 

Reeling, she nearly dropped the prayer rug. “Oh, well, I am certain Kiran won’t object.” 

“Let us walk together.” 

An early spring day where the sun was warm but the breeze still bit her nose, Talok in his stunning blue cloak and she in the jasmine hijab Bahija had gifted her with the expressed purpose of catching a lover’s eye. Moments after setting out into the sun across the green did they hear Asyhl call to them. She shot Talok a look of dread which, to her surprise, he returned. 

“Dr. Jalal! I am happy to find you during a time when you are not working!” The consul approached first, drawing all of Aafia’s attention from anything else. “I must introduce you to my eldest, Pava zh’Rothress.” 

Flagging behind the consul came an Andorian girl, adolescent, in a black Andorian-style Nehru suit, loping along as the light-duty and stylish exoskeleton around her hips and legs guided her movement. The big plait of her snowy hair bounced with her. She shouted out, "I am here! I am here!" with a strong but intelligible accent. 

"Oh, what a surprise." Aafia did her best to sound pleasant instead of blindsided. "Is her school on holiday?" 

"We decided that time away from her school would provide a better education." Asyhl's smile seemed a little too broad, almost strained. "The school in Tromsø is adequate, but an education is more than what we learn in classes, yes?" Whatever was happening in the consul's family, Aafia was better off not knowing. 

The girl, Pava, joined them while giving her culture's formal greeting—two fists crossed against one's chest. She already stood as tall as Aafia, perhaps a few centimeters more. "Hello Doctor Jalal!" Immediately Aafia saw two things: first, an overwhelming desire to be seen as strong but friendly; second, an adoration for her favorite parent. 

She now realized that, like most things with Asyhl, this was not a chance encounter. "Good day, Miss Pava. Your parent is very proud of you." The consul was driving at something, and they needed to know right away.

Asyhl put a protective arm around the girl. "She will make a good addition to your office, yes?" 

Talok must have already expected this was the consul's intent; his serene and stoic expression never changed. "May I assess her skills?" 

"Yes, yes! Dr. Jalal, let us discuss." They took a few steps away for a little privacy. Aafia couldn't make out any words, but Talok's gentle tone reminded her that as long as they stuck together, they could navigate this situation. Meanwhile, Asyhl kept smiling in his daughter's direction. "So clever, so very clever," he said, perhaps half to her and half to himself. 

"Consul, start from the beginning. Why would she not join your office?" 

He took a more appeasing tone. "As you know, the Andorian Consulate is not a place for youths due to the nature of our work, and Kiran's office can only take students who are enrolled in schools in the city." He had practiced this. "However! Your staff is allowed to take on anyone with the approval of you, the Master Architect, and your administrator. The administrator says the staff is in need of a student who can do chores. I offer a solution: my Pava will work with your staff."

Aafia listened to the pair just as a "That is correct" came from Talok. "Well, yes, the staff did bring this up—" 

"Yes! The administrator was pleased with her performance on the initial civil servant exam, and your staff met her just yesterday." 

Having the administrator, while very important, made her forget how well the consuls orchestrated their schemes to reach whatever goal they very much wanted. "Ah, I understand, then we may bring her into our office later this month." A few other staffers wore exoskeletons for mobility. The consul's daughter may enjoy being around people who shared her needs. Aafia couldn't find any harm in allowing this.

"I am very pleased with this. I must remind you that the consuls' residences are rather small, and she needs a space for physical therapy.” What was he driving at? “I expect that you will both take up residence near our complex—”

Aafia interrupted him with gibberish as she took a moment to find her words. “I, wait, wait, Asyhl, I—both of us?!”

His matter-of-fact reply burned her. “I understand that Mrs. Mehra has already spoken with you about moving out of her home and to a permanent residence of your own. It is ideal as you are her leader, yes? During the day, you will guide her work. In the evening, you will teach her.” His smile only made it worse. “Yes?” 

“I, but—” She lowered her voice out of embarrassment. “Isn’t she better off with her own people?” 

“Oh, Doctor!” He retorted, obviously feigning offense. “I cannot expect my own staff to leave their families behind and then take care of mine! There is nothing honorable in asking this!” She should have remembered what conniving fiends the consuls could be. “All formalities are settled with Kiran; he himself could not take on this responsibility as he is so busy handling his own staff. My Pava has memorized the locations of potential flats which are available near our complex. You and she will visit them tomorrow, and together you will decide which one is most preferable.” 

Aafia could not believe this. In the span of a few minutes, the Andorian consul had seamlessly boxed her into completely changing her life plus taking on a responsibility she did not think she would do very well. She stared at Talok who talked so easily with the girl. In a long-ago conversation, he said that the birth of his first child forced him to integrate parenthood into his own sense of self. He was so much better suited for this task! 

But if they had planned their project better, Talok would be out of the residence complex by now. 

“Consul.” Aafia groaned. “I take it that you became a consul by never asking a question that you did not already know the answer to. Yes?”

Asyhl’s coquettish giggle was so contrived she wanted to slap him. “You are very wise, Dr. Jalal.” 

When they returned to the pair, Talok looked to the consul. “Her knowledge of the local language falls short of proficiency, but she successfully learned new words as I taught them to her. One of our staff members is an elder from the adjoining neighborhood. I recommend we pair them to assist her language acquisition. She possesses the necessary skills for contributing to our project, but she will need the guidance and patience that neither of us have the time to provide.” 

Of course Asyhl kept grinning. He got what he wanted. “Then I see that we have a solution. We shall leave both of you to your work.” 

They silently watched the consul crossed the green with his daughter. Then Talok spoke. “The child told me of what her parent has arranged. It is in our best interest to protect her.” 

Aafia frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The consul’s attachment to his child is very strong. Should trauma befall her, he will be destroyed. He will also let everyone know his destruction.” 

This was not the conversation Aafia had wanted to have today. 

++++

Another late day.

Actually, no. Aafia had finished her work for the day at least an hour ago and spent the rest of her time exchanging frantic text messages with Bahija about everything: the moment this past summer in the office (risk and receiving her sister’s gloating I knew it! I knew it!), the agreed-upon arrangement in winter, not to mention everything else—boys she had turned down or said she would find at some unspecified time, frustrated nights spent eventually doing very private research and hoping Mrs. Mehra would not notice her up so late, agony over this ‘arrangement’ and whatever it was supposed to mean, and finally the consul’s daughter making things even more complicated—not that it was her fault, of course! But what was Aafia to do? She couldn’t wait around forever!

Unfortunately, Bahija offered the same advice over and over: Aafia needed to be direct, no matter the risk. If he couldn’t respect her for asking, then he wasn’t worth it in the first place. And if it made him uncomfortable, well, that was his problem. Better for her to learn now if he was, in truth, just an odious hypocrite. 

The sun had fallen behind the mountains but the sky still held its orange glow. Now or never. 

She wandered over to where Talok was seated; this afternoon he had taken over one of the large tables in their office. She noticed him creating geometric drawings, although she couldn’t decipher their meaning. “What are these?”

He straightened up to show her the most recent one. “The placement of the consul’s daughter among our staff is a responsibility I must treat with great importance. The consul expects her to be in our office every day that we work, regardless of what work may be available to her.” He gestured to the drawings spread around. “These are architectural exercises. When there is no work that is appropriate for her, she can learn the fundamentals of our professions.” 

How could he ever be a hypocrite about anything? Bahija had no idea what she was talking about!

Talok must have noticed her staring. “Are you concerned about the consul’s daughter?”

Do it. Do it. Do it. “Ah, oh, I suppose not.” The chair made a screeching, horrid sound as she pulled from the table to sit down. “I do have, ah, other concerns.” 

So attentive. He turned toward her and said the words he started saying to let her know she had his full attention and nothing less: “I am listening.” 

Now or never. “About our arrangement.” Her entire face and neck were so hot it felt sunburnt. “Talok, what did I agree to?” 

And now that crease of confusion. “I do not understand.” 

“This arrangement!” She stifled a groan. “What does it mean? What do you want from me?”

A quirk of his brow. “Wants are illogical.” Was he trying to give her an aneurysm?! “The goal of this arrangement is to provide a safe outlet for certain biological compulsions.” A slight head tilt. “From your confusion, I understand that you do not recall the details of our initial conversation.” Her heart was pounding with flustered anticipation. “I maintain that it is logical that I provide you with physical and intimate companionship. This type of arrangement will never intersect with our friendship.” 

The delicate, complex machinery of Aafia’s mind whirred to process this new information which did not comport with her previous knowledge and assumptions. 

She must have been wearing a stupid look for him to say: “I will clarify. In my time on your planet, I have observed the many facets of human bonding. Your bond with me is different and distinct from your bond with your sister and your bond with Khalil. Our arrangement provides another dimension of our bond but will not change anything nor will it prevent you from creating a bond similar to the one you shared with Khalil.” How helpful this information would have been all these months before! “Whenever you are not bonded to one such as him, invoke our arrangement and I shall assist.” 

He talked as if she should have already known all of this despite them never once speaking a word of it. All of it was reasonable, but why take so long? 

Before she could say anything more, he stood up to collect everything on the table. “With your permission, I wish to accompany you and the consul’s daughter tomorrow.” 

Aafia couldn’t hesitate another moment longer. She jumped from her seat as her hand shot out to take his sleeve, almost jostling the drawings out of his arms. “I-invoke-our-arrangement,” she blurted out. 

He froze, staring her down.

This was a mistake. “I, I am sorry. I changed my mind. I do not want this. We have no arrangement.” She turned away. If she grabbed her handheld and left her satchel, she could bolt through the door and run home before he could say anything else. It was still early enough to catch a train to Lahore. 

“Aafia, wait.” 

She stopped as her hand fell on the door handle. She couldn’t look at him. 

“Aafia. Please turn to me.” 

He had pulled out two chairs at the table closest to the door. He gestured for her to sit down. She stayed at the door. 

“You did not ask to discuss before now.” She could hear an apology in his tone. “I presumed that you had spoken with Koss’ staff or collected research which answered your questions about what is customary among my people for this arrangement. The better course of action would have been to ask if you understood.” 

Cautiously she took a few steps toward the chairs. “...Talok. I, I need—I can’t—Talok, I—” Why could she be direct with all the other boys but got tongued-tied with him?

“You invoked our arrangement. I shall assist. Please, sit with me.” 

She couldn’t refuse him. She took her seat. It was so much like that time in their office last spring. 

He offered his hand. “My current concern is privacy. We cannot go to my residence. The consuls have no right to knowledge of our arrangement.” Telepaths could be a terrible nuisance.

She wouldn’t take his hand for now. Mrs. Mehra won’t mind, but her other tenants may complain about a night visitor. And how much noise would they make? Their office was just a bad idea. She stared at his hand before an even worse idea dawned on her, one so bad that it may actually work. “…What about the storage closet in Kiran’s office?”

This time, his sly glance made her heart flutter. “I shall follow you.” 

Their shadows stretch far across the green. They walked along the portico until they reached Kiran’s office. As they suspected, he was already done as were the rest of his staff. The door was unlocked. When the lights flickered on as soon as they walked in, Aafia slammed the button to switch them off. No one could know they were here. 

Pass Kiran’s desk, pass the desks of his staff through the other rooms of his office to the farthest area, away from the windows, toward the nondescript door. Open the door, turn off the light, keep the door open for some light from the setting sun. Sturdy shelves bolted into the wall and piled with things. 

It would have to do. In what little light they had, his dark, dark eyes glittered. He spoke in soft, dulcet tones just like last spring. “I have studied human biology.” 

She was having flashbacks to the first boy she ever had sex with. As someone who was so accustom to controlling every aspect of her fate, that first time made her nervous because it meant sharing control with someone else. She couldn’t speak above a whisper. “I trust you.” Talok seemed so tall and imposing right now.

Better to not pay too much attention to what he was doing. By absolute chance, she had donned her triangle skirt and a pair of break-away panties. Taking off her hijab was unnecessary. Being nude would just leave them vulnerable if discovered, and he’d seen her hair already many times before. She placed her underwear within reach should she need it at a moment’s notice. 

She could barely see anything of him beyond vague familiar shapes. In the darkness, he felt her fingers interlacing with his. The sound of his breath. “I am here to assist you.” 

She squeezed his hand. “I want what you did that night.” 

Coconut milk, thick and rich, slowly coating her shoulders and taking away her tension. Down her front, down further. And now it was warm and slightly sticky and painted the tops of her inner thighs. A shivering sigh of anticipation. Only until now did she realize that every part of her wanted this more than she wanted her next breath. 

His bare hands on her bare thighs held her so effortlessly in position. She grabbed onto the shelves. Their moment of truth. 

The familiarity and gentleness caught her off-guard. How could she know that he would feel as natural as another human? She snaked a hand up under the numerous folds to rest her hands firmly on his hips. Time. She could catcher her breath. She felt him. They clung together, still, in the darkness. 

Aafia, when it came to being with boys, was quiet. Perhaps it was from having a sister or from the two of them sneaking around as teenagers to get boys into their rooms late at night. She, an adult, still referred to these young men as “boys.” Whatever the reason, she often forced herself to make some noise less they stop and ask if she liked what they did. 

Not here. She felt Talok inside her brain, his tender murmurs of “you are safe” soothing away her initial panic. She didn’t need to make a sound because in the moment she thought of her want, she found it satisfied. Every caress or gentle squeeze or thrust. All she had to do was visualize it and she would get her wish. She could be silent. No words. No sounds. Like what she always wanted. 

Only the sounds of breathing. Steady, soft breathing. She could take his flesh in her hands. She could grab at his hair. She could press against him. 

She could let wave after wave crashed over her and then the moment she felt that she could take no more, all fell to stillness. 

She held him tight. He was still inside her even as she had given everything she possibly had. No motion, only this joining. He was still in her brain. Sweet whispers. She felt his heartbeat: Strong, steady, and slow. Calm like nothing she had experienced. 

And then he withdrew. Gently, gently, her feet came back to solid ground. She heard him rustling to rearrange his clothes while she did the same. The act was over. But they lingered. 

He was shrouded in darkness. “I have one request.” His voice remained soft. “Do not treat me as an object.” 

She found his hand. “I can do that.” 

He broke their contact and slipped out of the closet, waiting just long enough for her to follow. She felt a second wind of excitement and giddiness because she could already hear her sister laughing herself to tears when Aafia finally called her. 

Leaving together would be too obvious. She let him go first. “I shall see you tomorrow.” 

“Right. Goodnight, Talok.” No time for so much as a farewell kiss. 

He disappeared into the night. Aafia waited around for a little while before going back to their office for her satchel and going home. More than anything, she felt relief. For the first time in months, she could fall asleep easily without pills or teas. 

Years later, Talok would relate to her a different story of his evening after their encounter. He did go home as she had thought. But he did not meditate nor work on the project nor read nor even sleep. Trying to understand their encounter and its aftermath, he wrote out his thoughts. He recounted to himself every detail in order to write a true and honest account of what had happened. Only when morning’s light poured through his window did his concentration break.


	10. The Games Children Play

A mango tree  
Grows in our courtyard,  
Sitting beneath it  
Is like being in heaven.  
What can I say about it?  
It is the jewel of our courtyard.  
But without my beloved,  
Without the one who is far away,  
It bites at me,  
It is sour.  
\--Mohan Singh

++++

“Dr. Aafia, are you participating in the work today?” 

Pava’s exoskeleton could allow her to sit in the best way for her hip without having to touch the ground, and she took advantage of that now while they watched the crew from a distance removed the derelict fountain at long last. “No, but I am excited that we are finally able to start working,” she replied a smile. She decided against field clothes but did wear a sea-bonnet instead of a hijab and work-boots instead of dress shoes. Just in case. 

“Does Master Talok need my help?” 

“Oh, no, his apprentices and the city’s people know what to do.” They watched a crew of three Vulcans, led by Talok, talk the city’s workers through their plan while two others dig around the fountain. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. But thigh-high boots and mutton-sleeved shirts gave definition to people who otherwise hid themselves under billowy folds. Strange. They weren’t remarkable to look at. None of them, not even Talok, were bulky or wiry or anything out of the ordinary. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but not that. 

Living with Pava during the past two months did not upset Aafia’s life had she had expected. After finishing with the day’s work, she spent every evening with her parent. Even though Aafia would have the flat to herself much of the time, she wouldn’t risk bringing home any young man courting her. Only Talok could visit—but even then, she didn’t invoke their arrangement. It wasn’t the consul’s business to know. 

So focused was she on the crew that she didn’t notice the person approaching. Only when Pava called a greeting did Aafia look over to see a man, human, like a boulder, dressed similarly to the Vulcan workers save for the small white turban worn by Sikhs. His green eyes glittered in the hot spring sun. “Doctor Jalal, right?” he asked. What a surprise, he must be from near Balochistan! But then, why was he with the Vulcans? 

“I am! And you are….?”

“Ramesh Singh.” He was so tall that Aafia wished for a crate to stand on. Sweat beaded up around his beard and mustache. “I came here with Master Talok’s people, but I was born here in Lahore.” Child-like excitement came through in his voice. “Ah, coming home. This will be a good visit. Talok is a good teacher.” 

Pava piped up. “You know Master Talok? He is the closest friend of Dr. Aafia. They very much like each other!” Was it really necessary to announce this to every new person? “He is also my teacher. My parent asked his permission, and he agreed. I am learning so much from him!” 

The entire time, Ramesh’s curious gaze fell on Aafia. “A Vulcan architect is a friend without equal.” One of his bushy caterpillar brows rose up to his turban. “And you’re not a building architect? Fascinating.” 

Aafia felt his eagerness to talk about everything. “Meaning?”

“You see them, right?” He gestured to the crew. “Not much to look at, right? Not like me. I am bigger and taller than any of them. But them? Members of the Architects Guild are the strongest people on Vulcan. One of them can carry a boulder, twice my size, on their back, and cut into building stones in well under an hour. They are the peak of Vulcan performance.” He sighed, smiling in awe. “I have met humans who go on and on about how Vulcans are better than us, but I did not believe it until I saw the Architects’ Guild. When you see them work, that’s when you really start to understand what their species is capable of doing. It is a real shame that the city won’t allow them to show their true capabilities.” He seemed eager to answer every question, regardless of whether or not they would be asked. “Becoming Master Architect is a very big thing.” 

She had to admit, she was genuinely curious. “Oh?”

“Oh yes! You know, in the old days like for Talok, becoming a master architect required someone to design the home which reflected their every desire and fulfilled their every need.” He grinned giddily. “But then, they had to build the home without help or equipment. All of it by hand. Wiring and cables and plumbing—they did all of it. They could ask their apprentices to review their plans and check their work, but not a single stone could be touched by any hand but the candidate’s.” 

Her eyes went back to Talok, absorbed in his task. She imagined him as a younger man, a boulder on his back, trudging through a sandstorm. 

“The Guild loosened their rules a little once they reorganized to accept different specialists into the Guild. Now candidates for different specialties can work together. But Talok is traditional in the way he teaches.” Ramesh turned to Pava. “Plan on learning everything! He expects it!” 

Aafia was still looking at Talok when she said, “It must be a beautiful home.”

The way Ramesh’s voice changed put her off. “Well, ah, I do not know. I have never seen it.” His words fumbled and faltered. “The mother of his children live there. With the children and her husband.” 

Aafia whipped around. “What?!” She then remembered to drop her voice and look about. She sidled closer. “He does not have the house he built? The one he built with his hands?”

Ramesh also glanced around before continuing. “I think you know not tell anyone, so I can tell you. It was a bit controversial because the house you build is an expression of your soul, and here he was, not living inside this thing that is like his essence made manifest. But it was the only logical thing they could do. She found another, they would be the better pair to raise the children, and thus they needed the house more than he did.” 

It felt so dirty to hear all of these things that Talok had never shared with her. That was why she loved hearing it. And Ramesh, with the exuberance which ignites between two humans after separation from their species, wasted no time and spared no detail. Pava, to her credit, made an elaborate show of ignoring them; her personal sensibilities would not let her learn anything negative about her tutor. 

Naturally, they did not see Talok right away as he approached. “Apprentice Singh, you are needed,” came the sharp, authoritative voice. Without wasting a moment, Ramesh dashed to join the crew. 

Pava stood to greet her tutor. “Master Talok! Apprentice Singh is his title? Yes, Apprentice Singh told us so much about your planet!” A quick knowing glance to Aafia. “Should I begin my own education of building sanitation?”

“Once you complete your education on the fundamentals of architecture.” He shifted effortlessly a genial tone, one he often reserved for children and anyone temporarily under his tutelage. 

Best for Aafia to change subjects. “Is the work progressing?”

“Yes. The city’s workers are physically far weaker than my own apprentices, but our current timeline takes their shortcomings into account.” The rounds and rounds of negotiation with the city came to a compromise: Talok’s apprentices would stay long enough to prepare the site and teach the city’s crew their techniques, and Mrs. Mehra was more than happy to give them lodging. “We will meet all of today’s goals.” 

A member of Asyhl’s staff had joined the knot of people studying plans. Talok didn’t seem perturbed by this. “Dr. Jalal, I must make a request”--he used her title around Pava as a sign of respect-- “Please investigate the origin of the objects we have found buried in the ground. We found a cache of them near the fountain. They appear to come from Andor.” 

Aafia lost her words. How?! Was this the archaeological find of the century? Why had no one mentioned any of this in all of the records and work of the previous project leaders? 

The Andorian staff member shouted with glee. “My tiles!” In that moment, Aafia and Talok shared a look; one question had been answered, but the answer led to ten more questions. 

Pava spoke up, her voice shaky and high. “Master Tal-ok-ok,” she stammered. “I can explain. May we go to the office?” As soon as they got back to the office, Talok prompted the consul’s daughter to start talking right away. They didn’t have time to waste. 

“I, how to say, put them? I put them in the ground?” She tried a sort of a sign language to underscore her point. “And also many children.” 

“Wait, wait,” interrupted Aafia. “You buried these things around our site. What other children were doing this?” 

She counted silently to herself. “My siblings, the Caitians, the Vulcans—what are they called? The telepaths? Ah, both kinds—yes—ah, there are others, Risians, Tellerites? Ah...ah, and humans. Some humans?” 

Before Aafia could make a bet with herself, Talok said what she was already predicting. “This type of illogical behavior I expect from the other species. I do not expect such behavior from Vulcan children. How do you explain your actions?”

“Many reasons.” To her great credit, Pava never fidgeted or look away despite her evident embarrassment. “When I was very young, I broke something that did not belong to me. I buried it and told my parent that I lost it. My parent replaced the item and promised not to punish me. I only did this once. My siblings did this many times. Our parents did not believe us every time, but they could not prove our lie.” 

“Give us examples of other reasons.” 

“One time we were playing with the other children from the consuls’ families and we made a game of burying things. Ah, another time, a child from the Vulcan family was angry with someone, so the child buried an item that belonged to that someone to punish them. Other reasons. I do not remember.” 

“You do not remember, or do you not wish to share?” 

The question was too much. Pava bowed her head. “Please. Do not tell my parent. I will help you find every place I can remember. But please, please. Do not tell them.” 

Aafia peeked out the window. More staffers from the other consuls were swarming around Talok’s apprentices. “I think it is too late for us to promise that….” 

++++

Almost every table in the office was filled with piles of junk pulled from the ground as quickly as they could be found—a mighty feat as every single person from all seven consuls and even Kiran’s office had insisted on trying to inspect any item pulled from the dirt. They only reason they didn’t get very far in the endeavor is that they began fighting among themselves as to how the items wound up buried around the campus in the first place. 

Aafia was hiding in the office; she could tell herself it was also so she could protect the junk caches until everything was cleaned and sorted. The stress of the day had gotten to her after hours of trying to buffer the work crew from everyone else. She decided to catch up on the graphic novels she had checked out of the library. Pava had disappeared hours ago to escape her parent’s wrath. Talok could not leave his people until the work was done. 

The sun was low over the mountains when Talok, arms smeared with dirt, returned. “You have the clothes and items I asked for?” 

When she visited his quarters, she found what he requested stacked neatly by the door as if waiting for her. “Oh yes.” She set down her tablet. “Oh, do you want help?” A part of her hoped he would say yes. 

“I do not require help, but your offer is noted.” He began unwrapping the dirtied cloth on his forearms. “The consuls and their staff continue to fight among themselves. My apprentices are retiring to Mrs. Mehra’s home.” 

“Naïve of me to think any of this would get easier….” 

“I do not understand Vulcan’s consulate here. Too often, they are given to illogic.” He untied his collar, letting the tunic fall to open in a deep-V and—

At that point, Aafia turned away. “Should I give you privacy? I can leave.” His words from that night, she took to heart. Do not treat me as an object. She wanted terribly to see what he had hid from her on that night. And for that reason, she could not look. She hadn’t yet earned that right. 

“I see no reason.” She saw the vague shape of him reflected in the screen of the workstation. 

Make up something to do. “Maybe I can find something in the notes from the other project managers.” She hurried over to the workstation and turned it on, eliminating her further temptation. 

“I strongly recommend we contact Dr. Aslan for her advice. This is beyond our expertise, and we have lost Kiran as an objective resource.” They found a number of his own things buried in the ground, making him apoplectic when he addressed the consuls. 

“I think we have no other option….” Where had they put Dr. Aslan’s notes? She had to keep scrolling and scrolling. 

The search kept her occupied, although she didn’t expect to find much of anything. Right now, she just wanted to stay facing the workstation until Talok had finished changing into his professional attire. The only time her self-control almost failed was the sound of some salve being applied to skin followed by a soft scraping. Her curiosity told her to forget everything she had promised and turn around to learn what exactly he was doing. 

“Hm, what’s this….” she murmured to herself. This was a new folder with Dr. Aslan’s notes she had overlooked. 

She scrolled through the first page of each file. 

There it was. She wanted to scream. 

“Talok. I. I have to go.” She found herself shaking.

“For what reason?” He touched her shoulder. Mercifully, he was fully clothed again in his robes and shawls. 

“...I, I have to go to our closet.” 

His voice communicated his eye-crinkle. “Aafia, I do not think this is a prudent time to invoke our arrangement.” 

“No, no, no, not. Not like that. I. I have to go to the closet and scream for a few minutes.” Or an hour. “Just. Read what I found.” She slammed the door behind her.

Dr. Fatima Aslan, in fact, had known all about this little situation. She even wrote about it: 

MEMORANDUM TO PROJECT

IN THE EVENT OF FINDING OBJECTS BURIED AROUND THE PROJECT SITE, DO NOT BRING THESE TO THE ATTENTION OF THE STAKEHOLDERS! CLEAN THEM AND BRING THEM TO A DESIGNATED MEMBER OF THE CITY GOVERNMENT. CLAIM THAT THEY WERE FOUND DURING THE CLEANING OF STORAGE AREAS. NEVER TAKE ITEMS DIRECTLY TO STAKEHOLDERS.

IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS, IT WILL CAUSE STRIFE WITH STAKEHOLDERS AND THREATEN PROJECT GOALS.

++++


	11. Enough!

The flowers bloom  
The sun rises and  
the stars shine in the sky  
everything seems alive.  
Life persists  
and still holds  
the red burning coals  
on her palms and walks  
with her head high in the sky  
walks a distance each day  
trying to save the spark  
from the poisonous winds.  
\--Surjeet Kalsey

++++

The project continued despite everyone’s best efforts. Their discovery and Pava’s subsequent confirmation had turned every office in the complex upside down, even Kiran’s as every one of his staff had fallen victim to the schemes of the consuls’ children. The Caitain family was thrown into its own disarray, but the other staffs were primed for outright mutiny. While the consuls ostracized Aafia and Talok, their subordinates instantly trusted them. The staffers thanked both of them for showing them the truth: This is what comes of diplomats’ children! This would never happen if the staffers’ own families were here!

Right away, poor Pava said that she would have to follow her parent’s example by ignoring Aafia. Her parent would not force them apart, but he would make a very elaborate show of dismissing Aafia’s presence whenever he visited. She couldn’t begrudge the Andorian girl and reminded herself everyday that, ultimately, none of this reflected on her character. It was endlessly frustrating, but it was also out of her hands.

Aafia found comfort in Talok and his apprentices. Kiran’s staff was not quite as cross over this whole thing as the other consulates, but they now spent all of their time mediating arguments. She found reason to dine with the group each evening, an easy task as Talok had offered her a standing invitation.

She thought about pushing that invitation further to...well, whatever Talok would allow. No. She shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if she had any shortage of young men. The same thing kept happening: she met someone, they courted and flirted—and then no matter how long they waited, one night of sex made her interest fizzle out. They always parted on good terms because she didn’t have time or desire to deceive anyone. What happened? All through school she took her time and held fast to her boyfriends, nurturing what they had and exploring what could be possible for their future. Even with Khalil, they spent many lust-filled nights together. What happened?

The answer was passing chapatis around table every evening. Working from sunrise to sunset. Stripping down at the end of each workday in their office. Scrubbing dirt from under fingernails.

Her promise couldn’t be broken. The way she saw it, the arrangement was a last resort. What did she have to complain about? Lovers were bountiful, even if she burned through each of them like a stick of incense.

Today, Aafia’s own crew would gather for instructions and beginning work. Instead of being loaned a crew from the city, she negotiated to select her own people. Coaxing plants and fungi to grow according to one’s wishes took delicate hands, enormous patience, and a lot of time. She needed a crew that was interested in learning and had the knowledge she needed ready in their heads. The choice was obvious: students from the university.

The sun had not yet cleared the mountains when she walked to the office in her field clothes. Talok’s apprentices started their day before the sky turned pink, and right now she found them reaching a natural pause in their work. They were using some of their tools to heat and prepare a meal which would be served to the city crew members when they arrived, a Guild custom which Ramesh explained as one that builds trust and communication. She should expect her own crew to receive the same treatment, and Ramesh pressed her to accept this offer.

Talok was in their office at one of the consoles, thigh-high boots by the door. Aafia couldn’t help snatching a glimpse of what the boots hid; above the indoor slippers they used for the office, unremarkable trousers which tapered down the leg to a tight cuff at the ankle, just the type of thing to fit perfectly under the boots. What was she expecting?

“Good morning, Aafia.” He turned away from the console just long enough to greet her. “The apprentices are preparing food for your crew when they arrive.”

She hadn’t expected the invitation to come right away. “I will let them know.” With a silent groan to herself, she asked, “Any word from the consuls today?”

“No.” Whatever he was doing, he stopped and went for the door. “However, I must advise the Tellerite staff and the Risian staff have made plans to ambush your crew with demands to change our current plans. Without implicit trust of their superiors, they are ignoring rules we had agreed upon with the consuls.”

How could a bunch of buried junk push them two year into the past? “Are the Deltans pestering your people?”

One boot was already on. “No. It is strange. Sexual overtures are foundational to their culture and the consul’s staff are no exception. However, I notice that the Deltan staff members will immediately change their behavior and apologize for any discomfort when an apprentice does not reciprocate. The Betazoid and Risian members behave similarly.”

“I think I understand. To them, your apprentices have more in common with the staff than your apprentices do with you.”

A thoughtful brow-crease as he donned the other boot. “I understand. It is a logical perspective. We should mark this as important. Perhaps the information will aid us in long-term resolution of the conflict.” They had taken to calling this whole mess of melodrama ‘the conflict.’

A few young-looking humans were wandering around the self-contained mobile office, obviously the students looking for her. “I think we should scold all of them,” she grumbled. “They are acting like children. Terrible, terrible children.” Before she could continue, her head filled with all the worst and most idiotic instances that came to mind over the past month.

A touch on her shoulder pulled her back to the present. The shadow of a smile on Talok’s face. “Today is the opportunity to implement the vision you have refined for twenty-two months. Focus on your crew and your vision.” He held the door for her.

Outside, she found the apprentices passing out bowls to both the students and the city’s workers. Ramesh excitedly acted as host to welcome everyone. Aafia whispered to Talok as they walked, “Couldn’t we let Apprentice Singh take charge of things? Just for a little while?”

“You will lead them well,” assured Talok. He then whistled in the secret language of the Guild to his people. Moments like these, a secret language between the two of them could be useful.

Now that she was finally participating in one of these early morning rituals, she understood its wisdom: the meal gave her a chance to personally speak with every single one of her students and already plan out in her head what she would have each of them do. The apprentices took pains to serve hearty vegetarian stews, lightly spiced, with aloo paratha, a meal with the goal of keeping their guests hydrated and sated while they worked.

Everyone else in the complex would still be waking up. There was time to get working before any interruptions. Today’s work: dig up the grass along the perimeter of the site so they can start preparing that area. The real work of the greenhouses and final gardens would only happen when the building phases were underway. Her plan still included plenty of other things they could do in service of keeping the entire site healthy.

And then, Aafia saw them. The Tellerites and the Risians, two clumps of people skirting around Talok’s worksite and making a tight, focused path for her. Both groups kept looking at each other and trying to outpace the other without breaking into sprints. No one around to help her, not even Kiran.

“Dr. Jalal!” Both groups reached her at the same time. She now regretted getting out of bed.

“We know that our consuls agreed to some things—” The sun beat down. “—we were never included—” “—and we have—” They didn’t even bother to get out of the way of her students. “—if you could just listen to our ideas—” “—you will agree with us, we are certain—” Both kept elbowing each other out of the way, and she felt a headache coming on from trying so, so hard to keep herself in check. “—much better than—” “—see, if we just get the fountain back—”

“ENOUGH!”

She didn’t care that her voice echoed off every building and made every single person outside stop what they were doing. She wouldn’t even give a moment to the students who now stood to watch her.

“No! No, no, no, no, NO! Not a single word! No, no more words! With me!” She stormed toward the main building. When they didn’t follow, she underscored her request. “NOW!”

The walk across the green was long and hot, but her anger gave her all the energy she needed. She looked over her shoulder just long enough to make sure they were at her heels. Someone needed to discipline these terrible, terrible children.

“Aafia—” “Not now, Talok!” Nothing would stop her. She possessed purity of purpose.

The two groups collected under the portico, and for the moment they were startled into obedience. She would finish this once and for all. Down the row, she banged on every door until the other consular staff emerged with their superiors, plus Kiran and his own staff. Everyone crowded under the portico. She didn’t notice that by now, the city’s crew had stopped paying attention to Talok’s apprentices, and even their own staff had left their mobile office to see the spectacle. She wouldn’t have cared.

Taking a very deep breath, she couldn’t help raking her hands over her face. “I. Am doing. My best.” Her audience stared in stunned silence. “And all of you. Are in my way.” The morning was already hot and she felt sweat all over her chest and back and in her braid, just to make all of this even worse.

Aafia was on a mission. “Consuls!” she barked, pointing angrily at the staff. “Arrange for your offspring to come here and apologize!”

Koss dared to speak up. “I am certain that my own children—”

“Are you accusing the child of the Andorian consul of lying?” she snapped. “Is that your accusation? If you are, then you should have the decency to make the accusation to her person.” There was no way Pava would lie about any of this, and she still couldn’t believe the Vulcan consul would dare suggest he bore no responsibility for all of this nonsense.

Koss may have fallen silent, but Gangless noisily shouldered his way through the crowd to face her. “You have no authority over us!”

The Tellarite may have been champing at the bit for an argument, but Aafia knew she already won. “Oh! You are right, but your ambassadors do!” A collective gasp of horrified realization. “What will they say when I report that I cannot complete the requested updates to your buildings? Ah? Because your people are running like wild horses? And you can’t control them because you weren’t paying attention to your own children?”

The moment Gangless opened his mouth to argue, Holloya swatted him into silence with a muttered, “Shut up, she is serious.” One advantage to having some telepaths around: she didn’t need to convince them she wasn’t bluffing.

“Have your children apologize to your people!” The many staff members murmured their approval. “And invite their families to visit them!” A heartier chorus of agreement. She didn’t have time to individually discipline each of the staffers for making everything worse.

“Ah, Aafia, that will take some work to arrange,” offered Kiran weakly.

“Well! Then you have a lot of work to do, don’t you!” she sneered, hissing her words while Kiran recoiled. “That is the point of the Interplanetary Office!”

She whirled around to the Caitains. “Mwit! Try, for one time, to support us! The Master Architect and I are not other people!” The family bristled while Mwit gestured for them to say nothing. Good.

Asyhl straightened in defiance as she marched right up to him, making them inches apart. “And...Consul.” She dropped her voice but would not let go of its acidic edge. “Your child lives with me which is to say that I share my home with her. The affairs of your family are not my business, but you will never, ever disrespect me in my own home. Is that understood?”

Asyhl would not give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead his eyes looked off to the side, the same way he treated her whenever visiting Pava.

She didn’t care. “Be silent if you want, but that is the rule in my home.” Turning away from all of them, she started back toward her people. Over her shoulder, she called, “Talk to the administrator! Do not approach me or Talok!”

Marching back to her student crew at the edge of the site, her frustration fizzled into shame. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that in front of the consuls’ staffs because it could deeply undercut their already tenuous authority. She came back to her students looking spooked. Even after she apologized, they never quite settled down.

Late afternoon came quickly, and she dismissed the crew for the day. Would they come back? Who knows. She should have handled things differently. One good thing came from her outburst that morning: no one came to bother her.

Rather than going straight to the office, she meandered across the field to join the other crew. As soon as she found Talok had a moment to spare, she said, “I think I may have dinner by myself this evening.”

A brow-crease. “You do not have a—” he paused in search of the word “—a young man as your companion this evening?”

Somehow she didn’t think he had noticed all of the dates she kept going on. “No,” she replied with a deep sigh. “I think...I don’t think they have what I want.” Whatever it was. She didn’t have the words for it. Change the subject. “How much damage do you think I caused?”

She expected a withering eye-crinkle. Instead, his eyes twinkled. “At first, the consuls and Kiran were not persuaded by your words. They insisted that nothing like this would have happened if Dr. Aslan were still in charge.”

Aafia couldn’t help scoffing in disgust. “I thought they were done with comparing us to her.”

“I showed them Dr. Aslan’s memorandum regarding buried objects on the site. The consuls are using our office to call their families and bring them to Quetta without delay. I allowed them to do this in our office so they may maintain their authority over their subordinates.”

This was the best news she could hear. “And Kiran?” she pressed.

“He is making arrangements for the consular staff to see their own families. Kiran is also using our office rather than make these requests in the presence of his staff.”

Finally. Something was going right. “I, I know, I should have been more logical and less emotional but, but Asyhl is treating me like a stranger in my own home! And then they brought up that stupid fountain after we agreed on what to do with it!” She brushed away some dirt from the tiles before taking a seat on the portico. She hadn’t even done that much work today, but somehow she felt more tired now that she had in months.

Talok crouched next to her so they’d remain at each other’s eye-level. “Yes, you were emotional. You should have approached each of them with calm and explained the illogic of their behavior.” His eyes still twinkled. “However, your crude method was effective.”

“I am sorry for the mess I left you with.”

“I disagree. There was no ‘mess’ as you say. I merely showed them evidence which supported your position. With that evidence, they acted as you directed.”

“Good.”

It would still be a few hours before the sun went down, a few hours before Talok and his crew were done. Aafia stayed on the ground with Talok crouched by her. No words. A nice, comfortable moment of quiet. Better than when they were in the office.

She was ready to speak again. “I can join you for dinner tonight.” She got to her feet.

He straightened up to join her. “We shall finish shortly. I recommend that you prepare for dinner now. It is best that we do not disturb the consuls while they are in our office, and what I require to continue to sundown is in our office.” He whistled to his crew, and they whistled back. Must be the signal to finish up what they are doing. “The people of the city’s crew are much weaker than my apprentices, but they have learned ways to make up for these shortcomings. We are ahead of our project timeline.”

Perhaps because she had been so bold today with her emotions, she chose boldness once more. “Talok.” The curious and attentive look almost made her swallow the request. Be bold! “Perhaps, after dinner, we could spend some time together.” She looked over at the crew who gave them no attention. “Alone.”

That sly look that could make her agree to anything. “Kiran has been teaching me the intricacies of human social cues,” he answered, keeping his voice low. “Should I understand from your suggestive vagaries that you are requesting to invoke our arrangement?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” She didn’t back down from anything she said this morning. She shouldn’t back down from what she said now. If he said no, she would respect it.

That shadow of a smile. “I agree to this invocation.”

Only then did the stress and strain of the day melt out of her. Even in the sweltering heat, she kept close as they walked toward the residential complex. “Oh, Talok,” she blurted out, “you should know that Ramesh told me about the house you built and what happened to it.” The secret would weigh on her through the evening if she said nothing, and he’d find out the moment their minds met.

“Yes, I am aware.” His matter-of-fact tone took her off-guard. “I overheard you two discussing the topic yesterday.” She forgot that they gossiped an awful lot about everything; Aafia took full advantage of having another human around who was not nearly as embedded in the project as the people from the Interplanetary Office. “He also told me three days ago, apparently out of shame and guilt.” More than anything, Talok sounded mildly inconvenienced.

“Oh, I—you are not upset?”

The apprentices each whistled to their master before moving as a group to Mrs. Mehra’s building. He whistled in reply. “I built the house with the primary purpose of sheltering my children. My decision to give the house to T’Pai and her spouse caused controversy within the Guild, but I made the correct choice. Shame over the decision is illogical.”

The next thing Talok said made her head spin: “Even if I experienced negative emotion over the decision, I made the choice sixty-three years ago. It would be irresponsible to hold fast to those emotions.”

“...How old are you?”


	12. Consoling the Spirit's Longings

I keep consoling this child-like heart. Consulted  
The medicine man, bought the prescription  
My malady can't be cured by syrups  
My dark hair streaked gray  
Ferrying between the five streams  
Why blame the poor boatman  
Merely following the course  
Ordained for wanderers?  
\--Madho Lal Hussein

++++

Pink hour. Field clothes. Pava soundly sleeping in her room. Silently closing the apartment door. Quietly down the building’s stairs. 

Talok standing at the building’s front door in his own work clothes. “Good morning, Aafia.” 

“Hello! What is breakfast this morning?” They should expect another hot day, but for now a weak breeze cooled her skin just enough to make the walk to the complex tolerable. “Are we having bindi stew again?” 

He didn’t pull away when her knuckles brushed the top of his thigh-high boots. “I have prepared haleem for our crews today.” Amid her gasp of joy, he continued, “Mrs. Mehra has provided us with rotis and tea.”

“You have to cook the chana all day! When did you find the time?” Had he been preparing food for the crews during their rest days? 

The sleepy streets were waking up as people opened their windows and doors for the day. “Mrs. Mehra instructed me in its preparation.” Aafia’s former landlady continued assisting them with meal preparation. The ranks of their crews had grown now that the project was fully underway, and three people alone would have a rough time properly serving everyone with the apprentices on a starship halfway to home. “I apologize that its preparation was such that I could only make enough for the two of us as full meals; we must split what was made into much smaller portions for the others. But I expect to scale up the preparation soon. I find the process meditative. It is calming and takes patience. I did not believe until now that there could be a spiritual experience in the food of your home.” 

“We can make bindi and aloo for the rest of them. I am not concerned. We have mango and naan and honey and butter—” They listed together the foods they could offer today to their people. Should someone pick up more for later? No, they had plenty. Some members of the crews were thoughtfully bringing snacks for their work groups, ensuring that everyone always had enough to eat through each intensive, grueling day. 

The scaffolding of the first structure came into view when they approached the site, now stripped of grass. Crates and tables and their tools and everything they needed. Even after breaking the old fountain into pieces for the gardens and getting the needed piles of earth and preparing the grounds, the disruptions from everyone in the complex pushed them behind schedule for this time. Soon it would be too hot to plant anything, and then it would be too cold for anything planted to thrive….

But the haleem Talok made was so good and nourishing, she momentarily forgot her worries. 

“This morning is too hot,” she muttered to herself. The tiny antique bulldozer was seizing up for the third time in the past hour; all the modern equipment was in the hands of her student crew. A few members were missing today due to their academic commitments. Staying on their timeline meant they had to draw the lines for all of the walkways today, no later. At this rate, she’d be working into the night. 

Turning off the earth-mover, she laid down next to it in hopes of figuring out what was happening. Quetta’s city planners swore by it as the only way to properly demarcate walkways. That they gave it to her at all was meant as a gesture of confidence and friendship. She worried it would break before noon. 

A familiar shadow fell across the bulldozer. “Oh good, you can help me.” She scooted out of the way so Talok could get some space.

“It is better that I ask a member of my crew to handle this. I noticed that you have been struggling this morning.” He provided his forearm, helping her back to her feet. “You are preoccupied. What is troubling you?”

She leaned against the hot bulldozer. “Why is this so much harder than when I was in university? I did all the same things!” She looked over to see her students taking refuges in the canopies that Talok’s apprentices had gifted them. “I had a crew, I had a plan, had all the same things, and I did just fine! What am I doing wrong?” 

A thoughtful brow-crease. “Perhaps it is your approach. You are thinking like a student.” He adjusted the wrappings on his arms as he continued, “I have noticed a tendency in you to take on your own part in this project as if you alone must complete it. You resisted bringing in an administrator and bringing in a staff. While you are making strides to correct this, it appears that you are unconsciously resisting the need for your own crew.” 

“Why are you right about me so often?” She tried frowning but couldn’t help the smile that came instead. “I hate it. Stop it doing that.” 

Talok’s shadow-smile. “Today, I will assist you.” He waved over one of the city’s crew. 

Even in the heat, she felt herself blushing. “I, Talok, I mean, you still have your people—they need you, don’t they?”

“I trust my crew. They understand what they must do.” They stepped out of the crewmember’s way and then started toward the closest canopy. “I will teach you to do the same with your own. The vital part is in your instructions.” 

Watching him help was the first time she understood what Ramesh Singh meant about what Guild Architects were capable of doing. His secret was not speed but endurance; he continued working when the students rested. The sun was high and still he worked, stopping only when his own people did on the tightly regimented schedule he dictated. 

The day melted away. When she thought he wasn’t looking, she stopped to watch him collect flagstones. For a fleeting moment, she imagined him working in a garden in front of his home. 

++

“Please! You have to help me!” pleaded Pava. Oh no, Talok was rubbing off on her. How could Aafia refuse the girl?

But this needed a true Elder Sister. It needed Bahija. 

Sunlight poured through the windows. They were in one of the two large three-story houses donated for the sake of Andorian staffers’ families. It was one of Aafia’s days off and she desperately wished she could just stay in bed and rest from the week. Instead, in the stuffy top floor of the home, she was moving around furniture along a stone-tiled floor. Andorian families were big and therefore needed twice as much as the other families—more furniture, more décor, not to mention more supplies but that Kiran’s concern, not hers. 

Midday and Aafia needed to rest. She laid out on a divan piled with Balochi pillows and blankets. Bahija and Pava were discussing where to hang the tapestries that the consul had donated; it was his small form of penance. 

Pava frowned. “I suppose...yes, that is appropriate.” She sat on her exoskeleton with a deep sigh. “It is appropriate, yes?” 

Bahija hung the tapestry high on the crystal pink wall. “Pava, yes! It is...” The tapestry depicted a very gristly duel of two Andorians using ice-picks. “It is very traditional.” 

“And not the Battle of Ushtan?” An even more brutal tapestry.

“No! This one is perfect!” Neither of them wanted to look at more people eviscerating each other. “You are doing very well.” 

“I have to honor my thavan—I mean, Consul th’Rothress—with my skills to demonstrate his compassion and generosity to the other families. They must know that we are honored by their presence.” A large stack of folded tapestries lay on a low table next to the divan. Pava lived and died by the consul’s achievements and failures. 

The comfy nest of pillows and blankets was so inviting. “You are on the right path. Do not worry so much.” She bit her lip to stop a yawn.

Pava stood up and limped over. “But what about the other families!” she pleaded. “They will hate me!”

Aafia reached out her hand so Pava may hold it for comfort. “Tell me why.”

Pava shyly accepted. “They will know I took things from their parents. They will know I stole.” 

“Yes.” She stifled another yawn. “But you told the truth. No one else did. Not even Dr. Aslan.” Aafia settled down a little further. “And because of you, they are staying here for at least a whole month and seeing all the work we are doing so they can stay here permanently.”

Their hands slipped apart. Pava’s tone became chipper. “Yes! You are right, Dr. Jalal. Thank you!” 

Aafia muttered back, “Tell Talok the next time you see him.” The pillows were so nice….

Bahija pulled a blanket over her little sister who was softly snoring. A few pets and a one light kiss on the forehead, and she left Aafia to rest. They could wake her when they were done. 

++

Autumn’s chill touched Aafia’s nose in the light of the late afternoon sun. At least her hijab was keeping her warm. She stood before a juniper tree planted in summer, admiring it. Bahija, dressed in shiny tight black for their night around Quetta, was wandering up and down the dirt walkways. A rest day. She was so excited about the progress they had mad that she just had to share with someone who wasn’t related to a consul. Of course, what they had done over the summer was just a prototype, situated right outside the south-facing windows of their office. But it was progress. When the staffers’ families came to visit, she had something to show for all their work. 

“Everything is growing nicely!” she called to her sister. This garden was a mix of trees and shrubs; it had been an agonizing process to choose and curate her plants because she wanted to balance the natural flora of a mountainous city with potential food and medicinal needs. Aafia ran a few fingers over the bark of the tree before her. Juniper and ephedra bushes dominated for now, but spring would bring back the flowers. Next year, they could plant more fruit trees. 

Bahija sauntered back to the garden. “You used those Midnight Sun devices, right?” 

“Yes! I thought I would need one for every plant, but just a few around the perimeter are enough for all the plants to grow like the sun never set.” The ground wouldn’t be too cold this winter, would it? Could they start planting more things now?

Her sister spotted someone behind Aafia. “Ooh hello!” she shouted in an all too cheery tone that made Aafia’s face burn with embarrassment. “What are you doing here!” 

Talok’s voice answered from afar. “I came to study the garden.” 

Bahija gave her a downright devilish grin. “Study the garden,” she repeated, soft and sly. “Of course he is.” Before Aafia could stop her, Bahija had already taken off to meet him. Her sister wouldn’t do anything improper. She’d just wait until they were alone to tease mercilessly. 

Talok wrapped the two great shawls he carried during autumn a little tighter to keep out the cold. His dark eyes twinkled. “From the health of the garden, I understand that my work was adequate.” 

Bahija gaped at her sister with glee. “You helped with the garden? She never told me.” 

Aafia quickly responded, “Yes I did! Yes I did!” 

Her sister could be relentless, but Talok never gave his terrible eye-crinkle. The three of them talking together felt natural, like something they should do more often. Bahija also deserved credit for always keeping the topic on something that wouldn’t make Aafia look stupid. They very much should be doing this more often….

“Talok, good!” Kiran called as he approached, his black cat in her striking yellow harness trotting beside him. “I was on my way to your office. These are yours.” Without warning, he pushed the handles of a cloth sack into the other’s hands. 

Aafia moved closer to peer into the sack. “What is all this?”

“Tiles samples.” As soon as the hand-off occurred, he turned away from all of them and instead to his cat. “Come on, Glykia,” he cooed to her. Any effort they made to ask him further questions were ignored as he picked up the cat, called her ‘licorice girl,’ and briskly walked away. 

He pulled out hand-sized tiles of different shapes from squares to decagons. She recognized some of the designs as Andorian and she guessed the others were from Balochi artists. The three of them began examining the tiles and discussing where the best ones should be used. The delightful imperfections in the formation of the tiles told her they were all hand-made. She loved three of them right away. Could she use all three in the walkways? They didn’t have time to make all of the walkways before the families arrived, but perhaps she should try.

Bahija examined the pentagonal and hexagonal samples. “Talok, did you specify the colors when you asked for these samples?” she asked with a genuine curiosity that caught Aafia off-guard. 

“Yes.” Talok was holding the square one high in the light the way one may examine a large jewel. “I chose colors that would readily contrast with their surroundings. This tile, for example, would serve well for the walkways as it is a dark shade. It will contrast with any flora planted in place of the grass, contrast with snow during winter, and the dark shade will absorb infrared radiation.” 

Aafia didn’t notice what Bahija saw: that tile in Talok’s hand just happened to be the same color as both sisters’ eyes. 

++

“Should we go inside?” asked a Risian staffer through chattering teeth. Everyone stood in the blustery night before the entrance of the Quetta Community Hall, bathed in the soft glow of the inviting lights within. A banquet was at the ready for all the arriving families. 

“No, we are staying!” snapped Utyra just as a shudder shot through her body. She angrily eyed the other groups which huddled together in the little courtyard between the Hall and the main road. The biggest fight had been over when each staff cohort can see their families. They came to the only idea that everyone could agree on: all families would come to Quetta at once. So, they waited. 

Aafia and Talok stood with Kiran’s people. The humans pressed themselves all around Talok to keep him warm. Aafia had wedged herself in to be closest. If he weren’t already shivering under his layers of cloaks and veils, he may have given much stronger objections. She leaned over to Kiran. “Should they be here by now?” 

Kiran, for the first time since being saddled with this undertaking, looked perfectly unperturbed. “The last of the families contacted us this morning. The hoverbuses are on their way.” 

She furrowed her brow. “But I thought the families had arrived on Earth two days ag—”

“I can feel them!” shouted a Betazoid staffer and immediately the rest of the cohort came to attention, repeating the same words. The Deltans too joined the chorus. The only two who didn’t were Holloya and Ianiot; notably, they were silent but wore flabbergasted expressions at whatever they were sensing.

She caught Kiran smirking to himself.

Down the long stretch of mostly empty road, the lights of the hoverbuses penetrated the cold night like two little torches. They silently drew closer.

Now all of the groups were chattering with rapt anticipation, inching closer to the road as a unit in an effort to get an edge over each other in reaching their family before all the others. 

The lights grew and grew.

The groups inched and inched, excitement bubbling all around. Everyone fell into their native language, having discarded the one tongue they shared. Aafia didn’t need a translator to know they were talking about what anyone does when they’re about to see loved ones for the first time in too long. 

The hoverbuses gingerly parked in front of the courtyard. 

The doors opened. 

Out from the buses bolted children, screaming with joy, running headfirst toward the Betazoid and Deltan diplomatic corps. Betazoid and Deltan adults were hot on the children’s heels, already crying in their happiness as they grabbed and kissed and fell to their knees with their partners. The two respective consuls took a few paces back from the clusters. Aafia realized that despite every effort at egalitarianism, trying to make telepaths wait their turn to see each other was like trying to stop a river with nothing but a hand. 

The other families streamed out of the buses in their own time. The whole courtyard filled with the buzz of tearful and elated reunions: Elderly parents hugged their adult children. Spouses grabbed each other in amorous embraces. Siblings kissed siblings. Young children clung to parents. Even the Caitains had their own special reunion, having invited the in-laws of their adult children’s spouses. As the cold wind blew, the heat of the people and their excitement warmed the air in the courtyard. 

The consuls stood up on the steps so as to separate themselves from the ecstatic fray. Oh, why were more people stepping out of the buses? “Zhavey?!” exclaimed Pava. She eluded the grasp of her consul. Her exoskeleton clattered on the steps and the stones as she skirted the edge of the courtyard. 

Aafia turned to see Kiran grinning. He caught her eye and grinned even wider. “The consuls’ families contacted me and asked to join. I am amazed that all of them could keep their visits a secret.” 

Their station as consuls—therefore, leaders—forced them to maintain a composure that the staffers need not consider. Their families followed suit by carefully walking along the courtyard’s perimeter to reach their missing pieces. They gathered on the steps. Decorum, however, did not dampen the intensity of love between family members. 

Aafia’s eyes started with Pava’s large family before wandering to the divorced consuls. She caught Gangless’ flustered smile at his ex-husband and their adolescent boy. Holloya was clearly holding back tears as she held her daughter with one arm and her ex-wife with the other. 

Her eyes drifted over to Koss’ family. Although his staffers were not exuberant like the others, Koss only dared to hold his wife’s fingers while the staffers had the audacity to lock arms with their families. 

Aafia’s heart felt full yet light. She could hardly wait to show the families the progress they had made. How wonderful it would be! Would the consuls invite up back to the retreat for an even bigger party? She should invite Bahija, of course. “T—” She stopped herself.

Through the small window created by the veil on his face and cap on his head, Talok’s eyes looked out over the courtyard. He stood rigid. That eye-crinkle. She had found him in a private moment, and he hadn’t noticed her yet. 

The cold wind pushed against everyone and soon chased inside all but the Andorians who insisted on staying in the courtyard. Even Kiran and his group dispersed to help in the banquet hall. Talok stayed. 

Aafia stayed with him. 

He turned to her, his expression returned to its normal serenity. “We must go inside.” 

They fell behind the Andorians who were dawdled in the cold before finally passing through the doors. They ascended the steps as the last in the retinue, but she lingered at the door. He wouldn’t want her to say something. But staying silent felt cruel.

“Aafia, please open the door.” They were totally alone out here on the steps. 

“...Talok. When was the last time you saw your family? All of them.” 

“Thirty-one months Standard plus fifteen days Standard.” No hesitation or pretense. He nodded to the door. “Aafia, we must go inside.” 

“Not yet.” The golden light inside the banquet hall bathed everything. The families were now greeting each other and making introductions. Pava had gone inside, taking on the role of hostess. Her parent, Asyhl, stood behind her with the silliest, proudest grin she had ever seen him wear. No mean looks or snarled words. They were thanking her. 

“Aafia,” he repeated. “Please open the door.” 

The cold must be getting under her hijab. “I think you should go to them.” 

His eyes widened. “I will go back when our project is complete—” 

“You should go now. As soon as possible.” The cold must be making her nose more runny than usual. “Then come back.” She looked back into the warm golden room. Holloya pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I know that when you are away from them, you are incomplete.” 

For long moments, he said nothing, staring at her with that baleful eye-crinkle. 

She didn’t care if it bothered him. It was the right thing to do. “You deserve to see them.” The cold must be making her eyes water. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Happiness is ephemeral. Peace and balance are lasting.” The eye-crinkle softened but did not disappear. “I am mindful of my children’s absence everyday, but it is the way of my circumstances.” 

With the cold making her eyes water and nose runny, no wonder it was also making her throat hurt. “Talok, you have let me go home many times. You told me to trust my crew.” She had to keep dabbing at her face. What terrible wind. She had to keep looking away. “You have given up so much already. If you trust your crew and if you trust me, you will go back to your home and visit your family. After dinner, we will decide the details.” She’d work until morning if she had to.

When she looked up again, his eyes were so gentle. He rested his gloved hand on her shoulder. “We shall decide the details tomorrow.” 

She nodded. “...Well, we should go inside.”


	13. Dust Creatures Are We

Jasmine  
Velvety green with pearls in her lap,  
Sensuous aroma travels afar,  
Pulls one in and touches the heart.  
Again and again, each year, each spring,  
May she bloom, flourish, and spread,  
Adorn each balcony, terrace, and bed.  
\--Amanullah Khan

++++

Meeting with the city again. Spring morning, the vernal equinox. This time, they had the good sense to only call all the relevant departments, the mayor, and members of the community council groups; Kiran and the project’s administrator, Noor, attended in support. Aafia waited at the front of the well-lit meeting room for everyone to take their seats. “Should I wait?” 

Kiran sidled up and kept his voice low. “Talok is not expected arrived in Quetta until this afternoon.” 

“Are you certain? I thought he would arrive later this morning.” 

Kiran rolled his eyes. “Aafia, do not wait. You do not need him for this meeting.” 

The group forced the decision for her. She greeted everyone and gave introductions. Then, the project: With help from apprentices to The Architets’s Guild of Vulcan, construction of the new mixed-use building was progressing as expected and using one-percent of the water that would have been used through current construction methods. The prototype garden was flourishing. This year would be spent expanding the ground-level gardens, creating walkways, and continuing the building projects. 

In a few short years, all of the families would move to Quetta, and over the course of the meeting Aafia realized that she’d no longer be needed in a few short years. So much of the project had forced her to focus on the immediate present because everything was overwhelming. Their hard work now allowed her to think beyond each day. She wondered what could possibly follow this time in her life. 

Maybe instead of another project, she should take time for herself. 

“—We are still working to solve the waste issue,” she answered to one of the department head’s question. “Unfortunately, our progress has been slow.” She knew just enough microbiology to identify the problem, but there was just not enough time in the day for her to teach herself everything she needed to solve this problem. 

Waste Management nodded in agreement. “I understand. The city’s microbiologist will schedule time to meet with you to find a solution. We can ask the university for help with sample collection and analysis.” Some noises of agreement and cross-talk about how to handle those logistics. Meeting with all of the stakeholders often and individually had paid off; the memory of the town hall not even two years ago had become nothing but a dull pain in her pride. 

“Thank you! Oh, we think that the consulates will need to move to a temporary space this year—” They continued discussing, although she noticed Kiran check his pocket tablet and then excuse himself. Not important. 

A polite smattering of applause, and the meeting concluded. Of course, every meeting ended with additional chatter between her and other department heads and Mayor Khoso as they broke into their discussion groups. But as people filed out, she heard another group of conversations in the hall. Strange. A quirk of everyone working for the city is that they never lingered in hallways. 

“Dr. Jalal.” He stood with Kiran just outside their meeting room where a few department heads now congregated. He wore dark reds and oranges. 

“Talok!” Their close contact during his absence didn’t stop her from wanting to give him a tight embrace, an impulse she resisted with so many people around. 

It took a few moments for the department heads to finally disperse and for Kiran to disappear back into the meeting room to collect their things. At last, a few moments with just him. “I understand your meeting with the city’s representatives provided an adequate update on the project.” 

Something was missing from their interaction. “Yes, I think so. They seem happy.” 

“What is important is that they have the information necessary to assist us.” His dispassionate voice seemed to scold her. “I understand that you accomplished all of this without aid. You have guided the project adequately in my absence.” 

“Your contact and guidance were invaluable.” His correspondences from Vulcan were all about the project so she didn’t expect any warmth to them. But standing before each other, she couldn’t place why he seemed to act differently. Well, no, not different. He was acting the way he used to. The way he was when they first met. 

And then: “Aafia.” Nothing in his demeanor changed, but his voice dropped. A breath of hesitation. “Allow me to express my gratitude. Your insistence that I return to Homeworld was…logical.” 

“You are welcome,” she chuckled, feeling herself blush. “I would not be your friend if I did not point out when you were being illogical.” 

The look he gave her put a chill through her and pushed the smile off her face. “My behavior was logical.” Then his expression went neutral once more. “However, I will agree that my logic was flawed.” With a nod, he excused himself. “We shall discuss this morning’s meeting at the office.”

“Wait! Do—” It felt strange now to ask. “Do you want to join me for dinner tonight?” 

He didn’t break his stride as he called back to her, “I must meet with Consul Koss and his people.” The hall echoed with his footfalls on the polished stone floor.

Walking back into the meeting room, she found Kiran waiting for her. “Here.” He handed over her satchel. “Something wrong?”

Aside from speaking with her sister, she had taken great pains to exercise discretion regarding her arrangement with Talok and the development of their friendship. She must choose her words carefully. “Did Talok seem...different when you spoke to him?”

“Oh, yes,” he answered vaguely, shrugging at the question. “Whenever anyone from the consulates visits their homeworld, they go through a kind of cultural readjustment.” They started toward the building’s exit. “Being here, diplomatic staff will pick up habits that are discouraged by their native cultures.”

She worried that her next question may reveal too much, but she had to know. “Do they also avoid non-members of their species when they return?”

“All the time.” He didn’t seem interested in what motivated her question. “Do not take it personally if Talok spends all of his time with Koss’ people at first.” He paused in his explanation with a thoughtful look. “Think of it as like seeing someone who hasn’t finished processing the grief of leaving home. Traveling between Earth and all of their worlds take a long time, long enough to realize that they can’t predict when they will see their homes again.” 

“But I don’t remember—well, I didn’t know him very well when the project started. He was just like this, right?”

“Not as I recall,” he countered. “Think of it this way: the first time I started an assignment off-planet, I was prepared. I knew that I would be away from home for a long time. Visiting home, I spent so much time making up for lost time that I took no time to prepare myself the way I had the first time. All of the staffers, and even the consuls, go through this process. Vulcans, to their credit, handle the transition better than others. But they aren’t immune.” 

“…Maybe he shouldn’t have gone, then.” 

Kiran reeled at her comment, nearly letting the door leading out of the building hit both of them as he held it. “Aafia, what—just—no, he absolutely needed to go home.” She understood that Talok should go home, certainly, but Kiran made it sound staying away for too long would kill him. 

His shoulders tensed up as they walked back to the complex. “I have this theory,” he began, not quite looking at her. “I think that we are made of the stuff that our planets were made from. Not just our bodies, but our souls. And, I guess, I think that when we come back to our home planet, that, it’s like we’re replenishing our souls. It heals us.” 

Aafia couldn’t help her skeptical frown. “That doesn’t make sense. Our souls belong to us and us alone. Why should it matter where we are?”

“I know, I know, it sounds regressive. But, I can’t explain it. I just know I felt it more every time I took leave from my post to come back to Earth. There is something special about going back to the place where we belong and where we were made, don’t you think?” 

She really didn’t know how to answer because she’d never left Earth, unlike everyone else around her these days. Maybe that should be the next phase of her life, a project on another planet. Risa and Betazed sounded so beautiful the way Utyra and Holloya talked about their planets’ many waterfalls and lush forests and perfect weather. It felt a bit crass to use her time with the consuls to get a small favor. She shouldn’t approach it that way. A sincere offer to help on their planets. 

Not Vulcan. She was better off not going there.


	14. Away But Remaining

You were away but remained in me  
And thus became my peace and happiness.  
In separation, separation left me  
And I witnessed the Unknown.  
You were the hidden secret of my longing,  
Hidden deep within my conscience, deeper than a dream.  
You were my true friend in the day  
And in darkness my companion.  
\--Mansur Hallaj

++++

‘_Everyone who comes back from their homeworld needs space,’ said Kiran. ‘Even Vulcans. They do not lash out like the Andorians or insult like Tellerites. They don’t whine like Risians, weep like Deltans, or seek attention like Betazoids. And they have no family like the Caitains to ease their pain. Vulcans wander. But for all of them, it’s always ends the same: they realize that they can’t mourn forever.’ _

Space. She could do that. As much space as he needed. As much space as it took.

In the early days of the project, Aafia had found such purity of purpose that she preferred when they spent entire days together without saying a word.

Nearly three years ago, she only cared if Talok respected her as a colleague.

Their relationship was a wheel. They were back to where they started. All talk confined to the project, and then leaving separately at the end of the day—she to her flat and Talok to the Consuls’ Residence.

That’s not true. In the early days, Talok asked everyone about the city, informing her about his everyday discoveries and sharing his observations in addition to talk about the project. They were both new to Quetta. Telling her what he had learned was just...logical. The absence of emotion in their silence felt like its own emotion—something ineffable but palpable.

The vernal equinox passed, signaling the growing season when the flowers of her garden bloomed with the explosion of color that she had anticipated. This was her chance to create a second garden, one with colors that would last through summer. She would experiment with plants that yield blues for the Andorians and yellows for Risians, and plants with less green for the Vulcans. Something for everyone. At last, she really _could_ please all of them in her own way.

She was drawing the outline of her second prototype when Noor hustled across from the office they shared with Kiran’s people. “Dr. Jalal!” they called frantically.

Aafia couldn’t stop her scowl. “Yes?”

“You,” they gasped between breaths, “you and the Master Architect! Message from, from the Risian Ambassador!”

Setting down her tools, she hurried after the administrator and toward the office that she had been doing everything she could to avoid lately. Ironically, her avoidance of the office had made her very productive over the past two months.

“I need your workstation!” Noor blurted out as they burst through the doorway, already trying to swat away Talok. “Yes, yours! I need it now!”

Talok’s eye-crinkle at Noor could wither an orchard. “Why do you require my workstation?”

“I told you, the Risian Ambassador! I’m transferring the message here.”

Aafia dared to stand less than a meter away from Talok. “Did anyone say the purpose of the message?”

“No, whic—Ah! Here it is! Hello? Hello!”

On the screen appeared someone that was not actually the Risian ambassador but an assistant. “On behalf of Ambassador Ariandol who represents the Risian Hedony, congratulations on the ongoing success in your efforts to improve the Quetta Diplomatic Complex.” The staffer was in a large solarium that had been turned into an office; nighttime, not just from the sky in the background from the clock showing it was well past midnight.

Even standing next to an emotional black hole, she was ebullient. “Thank you! It is truly an honor to be recognized by your government—” She continued through the script and etiquette that Kiran taught her about interacting with the ambassadors’ offices. Talok did the same, and they were both careful to communicate when the other deserved credit and praise.

“—We do expect to visit the Consulate as soon as we are allowed,” reminded the staffer. Aafia and Talok were running out of correct responses. It gave the staffer an opening. “Preferably before any construction is done on the Consulate. Has Consul Utyra shared any details with you?”

Talok answered for them. “We have an understanding with the consuls that they can must submit all of their requests to our assistant Noor who is granted discretion on what we should receive—Please, allow me to finish. Noor is our assistant and they understand that any requests from the consuls with regard to changes within the legally-designated consulates must come directly to us.”

“Of course. Then you must know that future planning dictates that the footprint of the Consulate must expand.”

Aafia didn’t like where this was going. Before Talok could answer, she jumped in,“Yes, we were told all about this.”

Incredulity crossed the staffer’s face. “Oh. I see. And your decision?”

“We can only discuss such details with the stakeholders, but we shall follow up with the ambassador’s office as soon as we are able! Thank you again for contacting us!” She cut the connection just as the staffer was responding.

Talok’s hot stare would not intimidate her this time. “I have two questions: Why did you lie, and why did you end the connection so abruptly?”

“It was bad enough when the consuls were sniffing around our project and trying to dictate our plans!”

Noor was gravely looking at the sudden jumble of messages appearing on the workstation. “H...How do they all know to call at the same time?”

“We designated this time, as you may recall,” said Talok. “The consuls were told that we would only receive direct contact during this hour.” Of course. Staffers from the ambassadors’ offices knew their window was small, and all of them chose today to contact them.

Noor was beside their self.“That last call took us almost an hour!” Aafia wanted to go back into their closet and scream.

Talok’s voice, for the first time in two months, held a note of compassion. “We shall take each call according to the protocol Kiran taught us. Noor, please keep them occupied until we return. We must dress properly.”

She learned to always keep a change of professional-looking clothes in the office and an extra hijab that she could whip on at a moment’s notice. She emerged from their storage closet in white and green with a jasmine hijab just in time to see Talok finishing wrapping a great crimson cloak around his terracotta clothes.

They eyes met. An understanding passed between them.

“Oh behalf of the United Tellar State—” “—we who represent the Deltan Union—” “—the Confederacy of Cait—” “—The Betazoid Oligarchy—”

“—we are honored—” “—it is an honor—” “—honored—” “—truly an honor—”

“—the ambassador must visit the consulate—” “— protocol dictates a visit by the ambassador to the consulate—” “—you understand, it is protocol—” “—protocol—”

“—surely you discussed the visit with Consul Holloya—” “—Consul th’Rothress has conveyed the details—” “—has Consul Koss communicated these requirements—” “—details you can retrieve from Consul Ianiot—”

Last one. The Tellerite staffer was the most tenacious, so much that they were forced to call back just to get through every other request. “—And Consul bim Pak, he has conveyed all of our specifications?” pressed the staffer.

Talok had taken over handling the staffer. “We are working with the consul and his staff to ensure all requirements are met.”

“You did not answer my question. Has Consul bim Pak provided you with specifications.”

The eye-crinkle. “No, but I assure you that we shall speak with him on the topic as soon as it is appropriate and feasible. Thank you for your time.” He severed the connection while the staffer was mid-sentence.

Aafia slumped into the nearest chair. “We did it,” she groaned with relief.

Even Talok wore weariness around his eyes. The call to sunset prayer drifted over the complex.

Noor bid them farewell. Aafia pushed herself out of her seat. “Thank you for your help.” She went for her prayer rug. “We can talk about it tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

“Perhaps we should discuss it tonight over dinner.” Talok hadn’t left.

She hugged her prayer rug to hide her blushing. “Oh, but Talok, you have a standing invitation with Koss and his people. Won’t they want to know where you are?”

“The consul’s family is visiting and he allowed the staff to make their own plans. They informed me that they were invited to some sort of recreation activity by members of my crew. I did not ask for details.”

How could she refuse him? “I see. Well, ah, wait for me outside, please?”

Only when he disappeared through the door could Aafia let herself pray.

The sun hung low above the mountains in the dusty blue sky. In the late afternoon light, his skin seemed a golden hue. Somewhere around the edge of the site, children from the neighborhood shouted with glee as they kicked around a ball.

‘_Talk to them as if they never left. Do not acknowledge that they left. They will talk about it when they are ready.’ _

They only spoke long enough to decide on dinner plans before falling into silence as they left behind the complex to walk through the city. The route they took didn’t pass through the place where she had seen him greet schoolchildren. Instead they approached the university where students clustered around street corners or loitered outside cafes.

The silence was almost comfortable, more so than it had been since his return. They came their destination, owned by a chef from Ankara. It was warm enough that the restaurant had drawn open all of its massive shades such that it seemed to now lack most of its walls.

‘_I don’t know Talok as well as you do. But I think he will show you when he’s done grieving. It will be something that he knows you’ll recognize.’_

She ordered masala tea. Then it occurred to her: just because he wanted her around didn’t mean that he was wanting of any conversation. She tried to not stare at him, even as his eyes followed her.

Space. He needed space. As much space as it took.

She just wanted her friend back.

“I received news while visiting Homeworld.” His tone came as if they had been talking the entire time. The sound of his voice came to Aafia like a bucket of cold water over the head. “My eldest daughter is expecting her first child.”

“Oh Talok, that’s wonderful!” She wanted to take his hand or jump up and hug him or something to close the distance between them. It was too risky.

That glittering twinkle in his eye came back. “Iria and her husband confirmed with their doctor during my visit. I became the first of our family to learn this as I would not be present when she announced. Their child will be born in sixth months Standard.”

“Well you must go back as soon as the baby is born!”

“I intend to return as our project timeline allows.” The slightest tug at the corner of his mouth. “The news is a testament to my ability as a parent and Stron’s wisdom in arranging their marriage.”

Of all the things to bring up, she wished that he wouldn’t remind her of a practice she found wholly objectionable and that his own species found normal. “Well! I am certain that you will be a very good grandparent.” They were brought hand-washing bowls and menus.

“I am less certain.” He dipped his hands in the bowl as he spoke. “Both parents of Iria’s husband are alive. Iria has T’Pai and Stron. By this accounting, I am superfluous. Iria may choose to release me from the duties of grandparent.”

“What? No, no, why would she do that?” She almost forgot to pray as she washed.

His demeanor held serene acceptance. “Grandparents serve as tutors and additional caretakers when children are very young and as needed when they are older. My species does not produce many children. Thus, four tutors is adequate to serve my children’s own families.”

“Well, yes, but you can still be a grandparent. You, well—” She looked to the street and saw a student leading a very old woman across. “You would just be a different kind of grandparent.”

He arched a single brow. “Explain.”

“Well.” Aafia smirked. “Here on Earth, when children are visiting grandparents, they are allowed to do all the things that their parents would never allow them to do.”

His eyes narrowed. “That is highly illogical.”

“I know,” she giggled, trying to not smile too much before he scolded her. “I know. But it is what they do. Not every single thing that their parents forbid them from. But the harmless things.”

“I do not understand.”

She took a moment to try again. She thought about her own family. “Grandparents tell the children the family’s history. They explain what the world was like when they were children too, and what parents were like when they were children. And they make sweets and show the children old pictures and take the children to new places not even their parents know about.”

He tilted his head in contemplation. “And you believe that this is how a grandparent should conduct their self.”

Aafia surprised herself with the words that came. “Well, it’s what I want to do when I become a grandparent.”

Talok wore an expression she had not seen in quite some time—the face of someone looking for words in a language that, even now, was unfamiliar. “Your statement implies the intention to become a grandparent.”

“Well…yes. It does.”

His eyes narrowed, but in the way they did when he was thinking deeply about a difficult decision for their project. “You intend to become a parent.”

All these unnamed thoughts that had been weaving together in her mind for months found a voice. “Since you asked.” She leaned on the table to move closer. Speaking too loudly could scare herself out of admitting what she found herself wanting to say aloud to someone, anyone. No, not anyone. Someone. “Yes. I do. I think...I think I would like that very much.”

Something in his face changed, but this time she couldn’t read it. “You would be an adequate parent.”

Although Aafia heard his words, instinct told her that they were saying something else. But in that moment, she couldn’t decipher it.

Perhaps with enough space, Talok would tell her. One day.


	15. Astro-Forestry

The sun peeks out  
From behind the high mountains,  
Planting little seedling of light.  
It crushes the yellow sunshine  
Into small pieces,  
Making anklets for the mountain tops!

Ankle deep in the wind  
Flow perfumes,  
The birds fall asleep.  
Through a clump of green trees  
A water channel flows  
Piping a melody!  
\--Shiv Kumar Batali

++++

“Talok, I have an idea and I do not think that you will like it at all.” 

The late morning was already too hot. They were under a white canopy next to the new building, away from the structure’s shadow. Talok and his crew had paused for lunch and the midday rest. “My preferences are irrelevant,” he answered with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his eye. “I must remind you of this often.” 

He did it every time to the point where it was a kind of joke between them. “I know, but—Oh, right,” she knelt down next to him “—but I think we need to make some changes to the project plan again.” 

“We cannot modify the original buildings.” He dipped his hands in the bowl of water next to the metal tray containing his lunch. “The Historic Architectural Review Board this month approved our proposal for placing gardens on the buildings’ roofs, but they will not allow further changes.” 

“I know.” She bit her lip because she knew this would be a radical change. “I need to show you something before I propose the change.” 

“I shall join you after my meal.” He gestured to his tray to offer some bread. 

She politely waved him away. “I had a snack earlier, thank you.” Settling on the ground, she tried positioning herself so dirt wouldn’t get into her work shorts. She thought about just lying down and closing her eyes for a moment. “I do not understand how you enjoy this heat—and I know, you already told me. I still don’t understand.”

He said nothing. The little tug at the corner of his mouth said enough. 

A gaggle of diplomatic staff had wandered over before Aafia had noticed them approaching, seemingly on their way back to their offices. The group was a mix of Deltan, Betazoid, and Risian staffers. “Oh, I see you are taking a break already,” a Betazoid staffer with a suspicious amount of interest. 

The timing of the question seemed designed to catch Talok in the most undignified position of having just taken a bite of food, making him unable to answer right away. Only after he swallowed did he say, “Is Holloya asking about the building?”

“No!” answered the staffer, biting his lip as he grinned. “We just wanted to know when you would start work again.” His eyes drifted up and down. “So we could observe.” The others crowded together while making enthusiastic gestures of agreement.

Didn’t these people have important diplomatic positions that they should attend to? “I shall return to my task once I have finished my meal and met with Dr. Jalal.” Aafia tried giving the group a stern look to help them on their way. 

“I see.” The staffer looked Aafia straight into her eyes and almost through her, giving her an infuriating little simper. “We shall make certain we look for you.” The gaggle, finally, took their leave. 

Aafia turned her back to them as soon as they started leaving so she wouldn’t have to think about why it made her so angry to see the way they looked at her friend. Talok seemed oblivious. Just as well. Between the heat and leering consulate staffers, she didn’t feel like talking. Moving her long braid to her shoulder, she stretched out on the ground and closed her eyes to rest them. At least there was a breeze. 

The gentle tap on her shoe told her he was ready to meet. She scrambled to her feet, organizing her thoughts as best she could before beginning. Walking across the vast field, she quickly realized that she needed to give him an abbreviated lecture in Quetta’s biome and how the self-organization of local ecosystems reflected their overall long-term health. To his credit, he easily followed the different threads of her logic. She could only hope that life as she understood it also lived on his homeworld. 

They came to the original prototype garden, flourishing in the heat. A slight breeze in the air carried fragrance of the flowers to her nose. She took a deep breath. “Our current proposal leaves a portion of the site untouched. We noticed that both people of the city and the consulates use the open space for recreation. However.” She took another deep breath. “I want to propose an urban forest. We strategically plant different shrubs and trees throughout the site and encourage seed propagation. We also plant flower species that will attract key pollinators.” 

Talok’s face wore a deep crease. “This change will add to the project timeline.” 

“Yes.” She kept her tone apologetic. “At least two years.” 

His gaze went to the unfinished building. By a stroke of mastery, he had found a suitable design which combined both the reception hall and the new residence into a single structure. But it also meant more work to fit all of the pieces together. When he looked back at her, she saw the telltale eye-crinkle. 

“Talok, I, I know, I know it is a lot of work, but it is for my part. Once you finish the building, you can go home.” 

“My agreement with the city was that I would stay until the end of the project. You cannot accomplish this addition in your time-frame without significant help.”

“Yes, but, but, well, you can pass off the project to one of your apprentices! I think Ramesh Singh would like to come back to Earth, wouldn’t he?”

His expression did not yield. “I must know why you find this addition necessary.” 

She gestured for him to come right to the boundary of the garden. "This is not an ecosystem. This is, at best, a kind of island." From her pocket, she pulled out a holo-pointer to help underline her point. "I chose plants that could be used as medicine or food. We need these plants to produce their fruit. But look." She pointed up to the trees. "No birds are nesting here. And they are not nesting here because there is not enough food. They need insects and fruit." 

"You have said that fruit is being grown for the consulates. Animals which may eat the fruit would not be conducive to your goal." 

She knew he'd say that. "There is always some small fraction of harvest we give to animals and the soil. They are as much a part of the ecosystem as we are. Look here." She pointed to the shrubs. "They're growing, but they already show signs of stress. See the slight yellowing on some of the stems? And look, down here." She pointed along the ground. "Already, I see some of the grasses we had removed growing up near what I planted. I have been using techniques that involve less intervention to reduce seedling stress, but this means I do not kill the weeds." 

"You should change your techniques to ensure survival of these organisms." 

"That is my point." She paused, taking a third deep breath. "I think—" She needed to choose her words carefully. "I believe that I chose the wrong approach. If I create these islands, they will require far more intervention to stay alive. I believed that I had designed them to sustain themselves, but I made an error. This a biological community that would move toward self-organizing in a way that excludes what's been planted because they can't compete with the plants that have adapted to living on this unkempt site. These plants should adapt, but they are too stressed. There is too much shock from the construction you are doing, and they may not recover. I cannot help this."

How could she explain this to him? "I chose plants from the Ziarat Valley because I knew they were adapted to Quetta's climate. But." She needed to find the right words. "It is like trying to build a house by starting with the washroom. Or like the stones you lay. The plants and animals, they fit together as one unique structure. I cannot bend these plants to my will once. I would have to bend them constantly, long after the end of the project. I would need to force them to resist their own nature." 

She was still not quite looking at him as she parsed her thoughts. "An urban forest is enormous work, more than anything we have proposed, but the result is a self-sustaining structure that is both beautiful and beneficial. A forest can handle the stressors. Dieback may occur, but the forest can recover itself. About the food for the consuls and their families, we can rely on greenhouses. We already know that Kiran intends to find a gardener. A greenhouse is much easier to control than these islands.” If she looked past him, she could visualize the plan. “We need to make this site hospitable for vital pollinators like carpenter bees. This forest can be an important resource if the greenhouse plants die during their growing season.” 

When she finally looked up at him, the eye-crinkle was there but accompanied with his brow-crease. This was progress. “You are certain that this is the most logical course?” 

“This is what my research tells me.” It took every fiber in her body to restrain herself from apologizing for proposing it at all. Maybe Kiran was right that if he stayed away from Homeworld for too long, Talok would wither like a dying rose bloom. Life as she understood it would not bend to her will. Life on other planets was truly beyond her knowledge, and that fact frightened her. 

His eyes drifted up to the blue sky above them. 

“We can discuss your options. I would not start until after the buildings were finished. Ramesh would make a fine substitute, and he is already familiar with life on Earth.” 

The eye-crinkle was gone. “My agreement with the city was that I would stay until the end of the project.” The brow-crease deepened. “Please explain your full proposal to me again. I lack your expertise.” He gestured in the direction of their office. 

She won. She realized she’d be holding her breath and exhaled. “We will discuss until you are satisfied with my logic.” She resisted the urge to take his hand. “You have my word.” 

“That is acceptable.” 

As they started walking, Aafia noticed that the gaggle of staffers had not gone back to their offices like she had hoped. They now made a very big show of acting like they hadn’t been watching the two of them the entire time. She did her best to smile back. “They are not interested in your work,” she said through clenched teeth.

Talok simply nodded at the group. “I am aware of this fact.” 

She kept the smile but she couldn’t stop it from turning to a grimace. “You should not let them stare at you like that. It is very rude.”

He sounded unperturbed. “They do not bother our crews. I have also come to understand that all of the consulates’ staff have made a sport out of watching us.” 

She huffed at the revelation. “Us? How long has this been going on?”

“Since last year with my own apprentices.” 

“What—how—why did no one tell me!” 

The nerve of him to give her that sly glance. “They believed that you would complain to the consuls.” 

Of course. She grumbled under her breath, “I should.” 

“Your proposal would add two years to our project timeline, is that correct?” 

She wished it wasn’t true. “Yes.” 

One of the Risian staffers would not stop leering at them while licking a kulfi cone. “Perhaps their fascination will help us persuade the consuls to accept your proposal.” 

++++

“Dr. Jalal, you have provided us with your proposal, but you have not explained why we are here.” 

They were a few meters into the ancient juniper forest of Ziarat Valley. She half-listened as Talok handled the consuls while she stood in silent reverence of this connection to Earth’s distant past. It took leaving Earth for humans to suddenly feel a visceral connection to their planet. 

The only time when she could get all of the consuls away from their posts was late afternoon though the sun would not set for at least another two hours. Save for Asyhl and Koss, the consuls fanned themselves in the heat and looked a little wilted. Asyhl just looked bored. “Master Architect, will this take much longer? Pava will be expecting me.” 

Aafia took charge. “The end result of my proposal would look like what’s around you. As we agreed, changes this significant will not go forward without all consuls agreeing to the change.” 

Gangless harumphed, “And the city?”

“They will agree with the change.” She hadn’t asked, but she didn’t need to. The city would jump at the opportunity for something new yet familiar that represented so much ecological heritage. She could have avoided so much pain by finding this solution sooner.

Utyra tilted her enormous sun-hat. “Well, I think it is a wonderful idea.” 

Ianiot absentmindedly rotated his massive parasol. He made deliberate eye-contact with Holloya through her sunglasses and after some odd gestures from the two, he announced, “The Deltan and Betazoid consulates will support this change.” 

Mwit, however, hummed in a tuneless, disconcerted way. “We want the project to finish as early as possible. You told us that it would not delay moving all families here, but then what is the reason to continue? To us, the project is over and there is no more work to do.” 

As to be expected when all the consuls came together, Utyra spoke up before Aafia could answer. “What reason is there to not have more trees near us? This is a good proposal and we should do everything we can to put it in motion right away.”

Asyhl rolled his eyes. “The forest is pointless! And it is just a hazard for things to fall on the new buildings—yes, Utyra, they are! I have seen what lightning does!” 

“Listen to me! I will present my case and you will see why I am right.” Utyra walked over to a gnarled juniper which its branches twisting above them from age. “Come over here. Yes, here! Sit down—stop complaining! Just sit!” 

Humoring their colleague, the four other consuls found seats on the roots of the juniper. “Now what?” demanded Gangless. 

“Be quiet! Notice where you are!” She shushed each of them the moment they opened their mouths until, at last, they did as they were told. 

Aafia settled herself under a neighboring tree and used her shirt to dab at the sweat on her brow. This forest had survived the worst of humanity’s tendencies when it was obsessed with exploitation and extraction. A handful of people had done everything they could to convince all other humans that places like this forest didn’t matter. Aafia could not imagine life in such an era. It would have broken her heart every day. 

“What do you notice?” 

Koss was looking at a gap in the bark of their tree. “We must leave. There are larval creatures here and they may infect us.” The consuls cautiously scooted off their roots of the trees, perhaps not bolting because they thought the creatures inside the tree would leap out if they moved too fast.

Aafia yawned as she answered, “Caterpillars, Consul. They only eat the bark of injured trees.” 

Utyra pushed at Mwit with her foot. “Back on the tree! Tell me what you notice.” 

Gangless growled, “This would go much faster if you just told us what we should notice.” 

Fed up with her colleagues and losing patience in the heat, Utyra relented. “You are all too narrow-minded and without imagination, but very well. Do you notice that the air is slightly cooler under the tree than when we are standing in the sun?” 

The four looked around. Asyhl squinted. “Yes.” 

“Yes! Is that not something to marvel?” 

“Why? You can experience the same effect from the shadow of a large rock.” 

Utyra made the mistake of grabbing at a branch of green scaly leaves. “Think—ow! Hush—Think about what you are experiencing! This is an organism which has outlived many eras of our host’s history! It uses the byproducts of how we breathe to produce the compound we breathe! By sitting in its shade, you and the organism become interdependent! Us! Us who are strangers on this planet!” 

She must have expecting a collective gasp of amazement. She was met with apathetic silence.

“Listen!” She stamped her foot. “How do you not find that miraculous?” 

Mwit tilted her head, peering up at the crown from her seat on the roots. “If we have a forest of our own, we can use it in the children’s lessons when we finish the school. To teach them about the biology of their new home.” 

“Yes! It is an excellent idea!” 

“We are not done here!” Gangless stood up to brush dirt off his bottom. “We need to discuss the matter thoroughly before we agree to a single tree!” 

Aafia chose not to point out that she had already planted trees; the other consuls did it for her and it didn’t take long for another spat to break out. Talok came over to her while they argued. “I believe they are not yet convinced of your proposal.” 

Ianiot and Holloya were now joining on Utyra’s side while all of them continued bickering. Gangless would not yield any ground and had taken to his favorite tactic of being contrarian just to see what everyone would do. Aafia leaned on her knee. “I know.” 

“Your proposal may be struck down.” 

“I think not.” 

“Explain your confidence.”

She gestured for him to join her at the roots of the tree. The others may hear her otherwise. “Gangless will not leave this place until they have discussed every detail because he is stubborn. Utyra, when she feels strongly about something, will never let it go. Holloya will support Utyra because she asked me constantly about the health of the trees when I was planting them. Asyhl is eager to leave to see Pava and will agree to anything that lets him see her faster. Mwit has already suggested that she is open to the idea. Koss, as you know, is not emotional but will be persuaded by the proposal’s logic. Ianiot does not tolerate the sun well and seeing everyone bickering will stress him out. This will strengthen Utyra, Holloya, and Mwit’s resolve to push for the proposal. And the longer all of them stay out here, the more likely they are to just let us do what we want because they want go back to their residences.” 

Talok’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You created this situation.” 

“Yes.” Suddenly, her self-assurance deflated. “I shouldn’t have, right?”

The consuls were still arguing but they distinctly heard Asyhl remark that he just wanted to see his Pava and they had better agree to something soon. Talok leaned back against the tree’s trunk. “I believe that you should do what is best for the project.” 

She caught that shadowy-smile on his lips in the late afternoon light.


	16. A World Full of Animals that Enjoy Being Petted

Like fowl and fish, from the ocean  
Of the soul  
Man as emerged;  
Once risen from the sea  
Why should this bird  
Make his home the earthly tree?

Yet we are pearls of that sea  
And that is where we shall abide.  
Why else should waves emerge  
From the seal of soul, and create that urge?  
\--Mohyuddin ibn ‘Arabi

++++

Kiran’s voice blared over the intercom, “ATTENTION! In one hour, the consulates will be closed! Please remove all items from the grounds! Any items left in the consulates will be disposed!”

In this case, ‘disposal’ meant that items would go into a storage closet or become the new furnishings for Kiran’s staff office. Another hot morning. Aafia took Talok’s advice to trust her crew and decided to help with the first interior renovation steps. They kept all the windows and doors open to get a good cross-breeze through the now-empty Tellerite consulate.

Of course, many staffers chose to lollygag with their items and chat rather than taking them to the waiting hovertrucks. No one wanted to hurry off to their new homes: a group of pill-shaped mobile offices—similar to the one that her own staff used—which had been placed on a closed cricket park. The heat was more tolerable than this new upheaval. They had to start with the Tellerite consulate because they and the Vulcans were the only one who had cleared out yet.

The first step in renovation was to clean all the rooms. She found Talok, like everything else he did, approached this with a precise series of steps that he insisted was simply “the right way.” The very first step of the cleaning was the ceilings of the front lobby and office area, using the telescopic necks of the wet-dry vacuums which gave off a low murmuring rumble. She carefully waited to roll her eyes until after he’d turn his back whenever he came over to chide her for failing to do it “the right way.”

Her mind drifted as she worked. Dinner with Talok was becoming the highlight of her day, but she wondered if she should ask for...other things. She’d never asked if he had any interest in theatre or music because, somehow, it never came up. During their last visit to Ziarat, she noted announcements for an upcoming show of local graphic novelists. If she asked him, would he go with her?

“Aafia.” His voice came from the other side of the room and startled her out of reverie, as if somehow he knew she’d been thinking of him.

“Yes?” she squeaked, then coughing to get control of her voice. “Yes, what is it?”

Talok stopped his work long enough to bring his vacuum closer. “I notice that since my return from Homeworld, you have not invoked our arrangement. Previously, you invoked the arrangement, on average, once per month. Am I to understand that you no longer require it?”

Her face felt like it was on fire. The cross-breeze did nothing. “Ah, I, no, I, still very much—are you, I’m sorry, should we—yes, I mean, I do still. Require it, I mean. I do.”

“Do you require a change in our arrangement?”

Before she could answer, one of Gangless’ staffers came in. “I must find Xav!” The staffer disappeared into the back area of the consulate.

The two of them quickly followed. “If Xav is a missing item,” said Talok, “we shall recover it during the renovation. We will salvage anything of personal value we find.”

“Xav is the pet we have!” The staffer was checking one of the cracked corners of plaster and making a sort of kissing noise. “It lives in the wall somewhere. You know the type: very small, long tail, furry, a triangle face.”

Aafia halted in her tracks. “_MICE?_ You have _MICE?” _

“Yes, that was the name! A mouse!” The staffer found a gap. “Xav? Where are you?”

She and Talok shared a glance before he approached the staffer. “We shall care for your pet, but you must leave or we cannot continue our work.”

The Tellerite staffer squinted at him but, for once, didn’t feel like arguing. Moving must have been harder on all of them than Aafia realized. “You can coax it out with bread and loose grain seeds.”

They waited until the staffer finally left. Talok crouched by the opening to loosen some of the debris. If the mouse was tame enough to come out for bread and grains, Aafia could trust that it wouldn’t bite Talok. Still, she rushed back to their office in search of something to catch the little creature. What if it did bite him? Would mouse saliva give him anaphylaxis if he was bitten?

When she returned, Talok had cleared away plaster and stone to find a gap in the wall and even light coming in from outside. A mouse, tiny and brown, stared up with bleary eyes as if they’d just woken it from a nap. She quickly scooped it into the glass tumbler. The mouse didn’t seem terribly alarmed, awake now but twiddling its whiskers as if it had been captured like this many times before.

She was in such a hurry that she didn’t hear what Talok said as she left, running outside to the first prototype garden and dumping the mouse into the bushes. It would be fine here. She’d tell the Tellerites that the mouse ran away while they were cleaning.

She came back to find Talok tearing up pieces of a paratha at the opening. He gestured for her to keep silent.

Five more mice emerged from the opening, whiskers twiddling in search of the bread. Upon finding it, they grasped the bread and began eating, apparently undeterred by the giants that hovered over them.

Talok stood up but kept his eyes on the group. “I will ask the city for help with searching for mice in the consulates and devising a method for removing them. I have no experience with these animals and I should not continue my work until they are removed.”

“I will ask the Tellerites when they first noticed the mouse to help us estimate the total population.” After watching the mice for a few more moments, she was able to get two of them into the glass tumbler before the others scattered. The two she caught were not as calm as the first one.

They walked outside and she decided to be gentler with letting these two escape into the bushes of the prototype garden. “Kiran will go to pieces with when we tell him.”

“Perhaps we do not tell him until they are removed.”

It was the best course of action. “Perhaps.”

They started back toward their office. “You did not answer my question.”

She hoped that she wouldn’t have to. “Talok, are you offended?” She couldn’t tell where this line of questioning was going, and she didn’t like that he was asking her in the middle of work.

He waited until they were inside their office. He spoke in kind, dulcet tones as he closed the door. “Aafia, I only ask to know if I have offended you. If you are not satisfied with our arrangement, it is your duty as my friend to tell me what offends you and what I correct.”

How could she refuse him? “I.” She sighed to steady herself and keep the tremble out of her voice even as it went through the rest of her. “I thought you would say ‘no.’ Or worse, you would say ‘yes’ when you wanted to say ‘no.’ The way you were when you came back from Homeworld and—well, I didn’t want to ask anything of you. It seemed wrong.”

Talok’s eyes twinkled. The eye-crinkle, but different this time. “Aafia.” His voice was just above a whisper. “I will tell you if I believe it is an improper time to invoke our arrangement. It does not mean that our arrangement is dissolved.”

She realized that in every one of their secret rendezvous, she never wanted to kiss him. Until now. “I would very much like to invoke our arrangement. Tonight, after dinner.”

The small tug at the corner of his mouth. “No.”

“_What_?”

“No.” His eyes still twinkled and now he wore that sly, subtle expression she had grown to know so well.

“I—you! Why!”

“You expressed fear of a situation which has not yet occurred. Now you are experiencing it, and you are learning that your fear was illogical.” He even sounded a little proud of himself.

She rolled her eyes with groan. “Fine, you have once again proven my ‘illogic.’” Truthfully, though, part of her was glad he had done it because he was right. It wasn’t as horrible as she had expected.

“It is my duty as your friend.”

Without thinking, she playfully shot back, “Well, if you were the perfect friend, you would come with me to the exhibit in Ziarat.”

His brow furrowed, but his dark eyes remained full of light. “You did not tell me of this exhibit.”

She couldn’t stop now. Be bold. “Local graphic novelists. I, ah, I don’t know any of them by name that will be at the exhibit, but I like finding new novels for me to read.” Why was it always so hot in their office whenever they talked? “I planned on going during one of our rest days.”

His expression became thoughtful. Then: “I shall come with you.”


	17. A Summer Night, A Juniper, and Thou

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,  
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou  
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—  
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.  
\--Omar Khayyam

++++

Without the clashes among the consulates' staff and the consuls themselves, the site became quieter and the summer days passed peacefully. Shortly after, Kiran began inviting himself to their office under the pretense of escaping the numerous calls his office received from the consulates; Aafia suspected that a part of him missed the chaos and company. The discovery of mice did not send Kiran into a fit. He knew about staffers treating the wild mice as pets even though a staffer from every consulate inevitably would rush to the neighborhood hospital whenever they were bitten; no terrible health consequences, just an overabundance of caution. Without the consuls around, Kiran also brought his cat Glykia to the site. Having her around the Caitains always felt disrespectful in a way that no one could articulate but everyone could agree on. 

And so it was. The three of them, and the cat, sitting under canopies during the breaks in Talok's workday, with crewmembers and Kiran's staffers passing in and out so they could play with Glykia for a moment before moving on with their day. The breeze was always hot. Talok was the only one it never bothered. 

The city, as Aafia had predicted, leaped gleefully upon the prospect of an urban forest. Quetta had its share of community garden and urban orchards, but this was a new task altogether and all of the stakeholders wondered aloud why no one had thought of this before. Before planting a single seedling, she insisted on redesigning all walkways through that part of the site to be raised and given special pylons. She wanted to let small animals go under the walkways uninhibited and reduce the possibility of walkways fragmenting the forest. The city mustered a whole new crew of experienced landscapers while her own crew of students took their holiday. The consuls even allowed an occasional visit by their staff under the strict condition that they obey the project leads and treat their word as law. The mayor herself came to visit one day and seeing how much work they had done, insisted that they all come to her home for dinner that evening. 

Talok always found the energy to meet her at her flat each morning and walk her home each evening. When Aafia found herself too tired to meet the day's project goals, Talok's own reserves were bottomless. How? she would ask him, and he simply told her he has a way of maintaining himself on Earth where the gravity is weaker than his own planet. Each cohort of staff vistied only once: they arrived early in the morning and insisted on helping Talok, confident that their various natural abilities surpassed those of the human crewmembers; by noon, they came back to Aafia in various states of exhaustion, asking if she needed any help laying tiles for the walkways. Not even Koss' people could keep pace with a Master Architect. 

Another exhibit of graphic novelists, this one in Sibi. Would she be interested in attending with him?

Why not? How could she refuse? 

And so it was. Summer, a time of endless possibilities, of sun-drenched days and secretive nights, of stolen glances and exciting discovery. 

Until the leaves began to turn and Talok announced: "Iria has given birth to a healthy child."


	18. The Incorrigible Ambassadors

Dew drops from an early dawn narcissus  
as if tear drops from a melancholy eye,  
O beauty, I asked, what makes you cry  
life is too short for me, it answered  
My beauty blooms and withers in a moment  
as if smile comes and forever fades away.

— Nazo Tokhi

++++

Blue hour. Robe. Pava soundly sleeping in her room. The apartment door ajar. Quietly down the building's stairs.

Talok at the building's front door. Cold air rushing in. He said nothing. His dark eyes said everything.

Be silent, she signaled.

Up the stairs, through the apartment door. Every step made her heart beat faster. They had been so careful before, but he would leave for Homeworld tomorrow and she couldn't let one last chance slip away.

Into her bedroom, into her closet, the door clicking shut softly behind them.

++

He waited at the bottom of the stairs for her while she dressed. Today would require a carefully-crafted outfit for it was the day they would speak with all seven ambassadors. The pink and brown hijab was a given, fastened with the crescent brooch Asyhl gave her. Warm chocolate brown blouse and white for the rest—trousers, shoes, and coat. A little lipcolor and a little powder. She would take no risks.

Meeting him outside in his fiery robes and shawls, Talok gave the distinct impression of discomfort. "I must apologize for my conduct," he began as they walked, keeping his voice low. "Even a momentarily lapse in control is unacceptable."

Aafia grinned into the lapel of her coat. "Oh, you have nothing to apologize for." It had been just as wonderful as always, but this time she'd felt a surge of passion from him like nothing else she'd ever experienced. It was brief but it disturbed him so much, he insisted they go no further.

"I disagree. I shall endeavor to ensure that it does not happen again." By his tone, she could that he considered the matter settled.

Kiran intercepted them before they even reached the site. "There you are! We are meeting at City Hall. The mayor and the city's stakeholders want to take part. I called for a ride." He explained what he could on the way. The ambassadors did not want the forest. Kiran had wondered for years why a relatively simple project kept failing after Dr. Aslan left, and he finally discovered that the consuls kept sharing too much information with their ambassadors at critical project moments, fueling the consuls' already high appetite for proxy wars and elaborate machinations. Out of respect for Talok and Aafia, they didn't make the same mistake. Of course, the city argued that only the square footage inside each consulate belonged to their respective planets whereas the rest of the complex, including what would become the forest, belong the city outright. If any planet wanted more, they had to negotiate not just with the city but with all other parties housed in the complex.

By the time they got the City Hall, Aafia's head was spinning. Talok had taken on a permanent, disdainful eye-crinkle as they hurried through the lobby doors. "They mean to seize the new buildings."

"Yes," Kiran spat with a grimace. "And they are already arguing that letting you work on the project at all was a conflict of interest because, someone may argue, the work you did for the city belongs to your Homeworld."

"That is illogical. I signed a well-reviewed agreement with the city."

Kiran stopped them in the marble hallway. "Talok." His voice was ominously soft. “You need to understand. Illogic is part of the strategy. Diplomacy is intuition and agreements. This site is known for its limited resources. Their first priority is to secure resources for their subordinates. Their second priority is to do so in a way that the others don't get upset with them."

They arrived in the stately of the conference rooms to find the mayor, the city's department heads, the seven consuls, and two rows of large screens with place names displayed on them. "Finally!" exclaimed Gangless. "You were almost late!" How the early morning visit delayed them so much?

There wasn't much time to prepare, but Aafia collected what she could. As it stood, the Deltan and Risian ambassadors thought the forest was a good idea, but they should expect the Deltan to change his mind whenever he suspected a shift in consensus because he had no way of reading everyone else. The Caitain ambassador, like Mwit, was apathetic but would not allow the meeting to happen without her planet's voice behind heard. The problem was the ambassadors from Vulcan, Betazed, Tellar, and Andor, all of whom thought the forest was not an effective use of the site and preferred buildings. All of them agreed that it should be used to expand their own consulates, but none of them could decide how to divide up the plot.

Seven city names displayed across the screens: Havana, Tromsø, Kigali, Mahé City, Tunis, Swakopmund, and Nagasaki. While an assistant handed everyone an earpiece for translation, Ianiot set up a large tablet next to where Talok and Aafia were keeping their notes on the conference tables. “You need our input,” he cautioned. “We use these to communicate with Kiran’s staff during meetings. Aafia, your strength is in leading these meetings. Talok, you review our incoming notes and give her advice. I trust in you both when you are together.”She felt herself blushing at the idea that she and Talok were now integral to each other’s success.

One more minute. She thought about taking his hand under the table. She settled for resting the tips of her fingers on his shoulder. When he looked over, she just smiled as if to say _be near me_.

“Are you concerned?” he asked. He had settled into his expression of calmness.

“No.” She withdrew her hand. “Please send me pictures of your grandchild.”

“For what—” “TRANSMISSION!” announced the communications assistant, prompting the rest of the assistants to take their seats.

While the different screens blinked on, Aafia noticed the display for the consuls’ notes already filling up. She peeked over to find something from Holloya: _Beware the ambassador—_

Kiran began the meeting’s opening address. “Thank you and welcome to this meeting regarding the Rahila Hameed Durrani Diplomatic Complex here in Quetta. We are honored to have the attention of the ambassadors—” He continued on and Aafia could take time to examine the people across the screens.

The ambassadors were all like older, more extreme versions of the consuls. Talok summarized incoming notes on a third small tablet he had set between them: The Caitain ambassador was Mwit’s grandmother, explaining the ambassador’s strawberry-blonde fur as a sign of age. The Andorian ambassador was slower to passion compared to his peers but must never be underestimated. The Tellerite ambassador had a habit of harping on conflicts of interest or impropriety, but this was a smokescreen and should be ignored. The Risian ambassador was good friends with the Caitain ambassador; she was also an avid entomologist and should be relied on as their strongest advocate. They already knew what to expect from the Deltan ambassador. The Betazoid and Vulcan ambassadors were their biggest challenges, and they must tread lightly.

“—This is a summary of the proposed changes to the current project, all of which have been approved by the city and all stakeholders.” Kiran gave a meaningful glance to both of them. “I will now open the meeting to discussion. The ambassadors may address the project leaders, Dr. Aafia Jalal and Master Architect Talok ibn Balev.”

The Betazoid ambassador, Lwaxana, spat fire before anyone else could breathe. “I do not accept any of this! It is explicit in our agreements with the city of Quetta that every consulate should be treated as if it is under our sovereignty—it does _not_ belong to another government and it does _not_ belong to the Federation. Those spaces belong to us.”

Aafia’s gaze locked with Talok’s for a fleeting moment. She took a deep breath and stood from her seat, facing the screens. “Ambassador. We submitted our forms to your office a year ago about our changes to the consulates, and your agreem—”

“Yes, I am aware, but this is new and at the time that you submitted those forms, you did not allow us time to evaluate the entire site. We had the opportunity to negotiate a larger footprint for each of our consulates, and you did not allow us to do so.”

“That land is in conservatorship by the city. It is up to the city to determine its fate based on what is in the best interest of the land itself and the city’s people.”

Ambassador Lwaxana opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off by the Andorian ambassador whose easy smile gave Aafia no comfort. “Then we should end this meeting and see the land for ourselves. Let us visit as our schedules allow and we shall further discuss the matter. You said yourself that the proposal will add two years to the project timeline, did you not? Coordinate with our offices.”

“No! We settle this now!” Ambassador Lwaxana signaled to some assistant out of sight wile saying, “The only resolution to this problem is for the project leads to turn over their plans and halt the project so that we may renegotiate with the city and determine the fate of the land.”

Aafia would not yield. “The city has already agreed to our proposal and they are stewards of the land. This is out of your hands.”

Abruptly, Ambassador Sarek, like a gray-haired statue moments before, spoke. “Did you inform the city of all possibilities for the land?”

In the glare of the screens, she saw Consul Koss typing his notes with inhuman speed. Instinct told her to ask to delay. “Excuse us. We need to collect more information. Please allow us a two-minute recess.” On cue, The communications assistant changed all the screens to the “recess” image of the city’s municipal seal.

She bolted back to her seat in time for Talok to murmur in her ear, “The question is meant to undermine our claim. Convey this to Mayor Khoso and the others from the city. Allow them to provide the rebuttal.”

No sooner had he said this that Mayor Khoso came over. “Obviously, the ambassador is suggesting that you did not give us your due diligence, and I cannot stand for that. Dr. Jalal, you have maintain control of the meeting, and I thank you. I and the department heads will handle them from here.”

Mayor’s orders. She wouldn’t object. Aafia took her chair shortly before the screens came back on to show the ambassadors engage in heated debates with each other, the Risian ambassador loudly demanding the opportunity to make her case in favor of their proposal changes dominating the din of voices overlapping so much that some parts were left untranslated by the earpieces. The project had taught her to merely half-listen to these conversations, knowing that everyone involved had to first tie themselves in knots before becoming productive.

Mayor Khoso shushed all of them with partial success and the arguments continued. Right now, they were discussing stewardship of the land and the tedious details of their diplomatic agreements. She surreptitiously jotted out a note to Talok on their shared tablet. _Dinner tonight?_

Only his eyes moved. Ambassador Lwaxana’s voice rose above the rest. “I am the daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, the holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed! I will not—” The rest of it was not important. His gaze went back on the screens as his hand cautiously moved to reply._ Your choice_.

“Oh, Gormogoth The Mighty, Lwaxana!” snapped the Tellerite ambassador. “You say that so often it has lost all meaning!” The Andorian ambassador enjoined with: “Again, as I said before, this is better discussed at the site—” More arguing. _There’s a chef here from Axum with a cafe._

Somewhere in the din came Ambassador Sarek’s condescension about the agreement between his office and the city, given that he was the same ambassador who negotiated it over one hundred years ago. The Mayor reminded him that while the agreement had been between his office and his city, he was on his own Homeworld at the time and therefore, no, in fact, it was not between him and the city, not to mention that in actuality the proper channel for this particular conversation is Ambassador Spock and— _I am not familiar with this place_.

The arguments had moved onto to historicity of the buildings and the reasoning behind not expanding their footprints and yes, in fact, it was important to preserve them because this is a region of enormous historical significance, much of which has been lost to the age of exploitation and they have spent years as a community determining the best practices for balancing preservation needs with technological progress, and the community would not be told what to do— _No forks, you use a special bread, like what the apprentices did. _

A stray comment came in their direction. Ambassador Lwaxana would not yield on her goal of acquiring a new building for the Betazoid consulate. Talok crisply responded, “This would add four years to the project for the building alone and I would require my apprentices to hurry the work.”

“I will give you my own staff.”

“NO!” shouted the consuls frantically, the first time anyone of them had spoken up.

Talok would not smile but he wore a subtle sly quirk of his brow. “I do not recommend this course, Ambassador. The work of an apprentice architect takes much training which I know from experience that a diplomatic corps do not possess. The additional building would also extended my stay on my planet well beyond what I have negotiated with the city.”

“But you are already extending your stay!”

“I am, Ambassador, but I am doing so in the service of a proposal that will ultimately benefit the consuls, the diplomatic corps, and the people of Quetta.”

The Tellerite ambassador sneered, “You are very supportive of Dr. Jalal in ways I was not expecting, Master Architect. Should we expect a conflict of interest?” The ambassador must be desperate to be so obvious.

Talok did not flinch. “Dr. Jalal’s work stands on its own. That the city has readily accepted her proposal demonstrates that she understands the needs of the stakeholders.”

And then. Ambassador Sarek spoke again. “I agree with my colleague.”

It was like the oxygen had left the room. The only sound was the tapping from the consuls hammering out their notes. Talok looked as if he had been slapped across the face. “...On what grounds, Ambassador?” She had observed a silent understanding between all Vulcans to never call into question another’s integrity in front of other species. What was the ambassador driving at?

“I understand that you fraternize with Dr. Jalal.” Aafia looked around the room, silently praying for someone to speak up on their behalf. She couldn’t. Somewhere in her mind she knew that Talok would never forgive her.

Talok was choosing his words. “Ambassador, if you have evidence of illogic on my part, you are obliged to reveal it to me.” The consuls were staring at Koss who, for the first time she could remember, displayed a genuine emotion: discomfort.

“Your illogic is self-evident. You did not inform us of the new proposal.” The condescension in his voice made Aafia’s heart pound with anger. “Perhaps you were distracted—”

A new voice cut in, “_How dare you!_” It was the Deltan ambassador who, until now, had chosen to sit back and let everyone else argue. Serene before, his pale face was turning flushed as he bellowed, “There is nothing wrong with how they have conducted themselves and they have been nothing but generous with their time! The substance of their private lives is not for us to speculate on!”

Sarek simply looked off in the way she’d seen Talok do to signify that he would not engage with someone who was being so emotional.

“I am appalled at your insinuations, Sarek! Or need I remind you of your own personal history?”

To this, Sarek instantly turned his attention back. “We are not here to discuss my—” And now the other ambassadors, even the Tellerite, were piling on and the Mayor was shouting for order and now the consuls were ripping off their earpieces to form a tight knot around Koss whose eyes darted nervously and she couldn’t bring herself to look at Talok. A gentle tap on her shoulder: Kiran. He motioned for them to follow.

They passed the consuls. “How could you do this to us—” “—I did not—” “We made a pact—” “—You are the one who fixes this—” They now circled Koss like vultures, but he wasn’t the only one they were blaming. Mercifully, no one seemed to notice the three of them leaving.

Even behind the door of the adjacent smaller conference, they could hear the low rumble of infighting. Kiran took a moment, biting his lip. “Well. This is not good—No, no, you two did well. You have nothing to apologize for. But this is not good.”

She still couldn’t look at Talok. There had to be a way to make things right. “Kiran, what the ambassador said….” But how could she finish that statement? Deny the truth? Admit to...what exactly? They had done nothing wrong!

Kiran easily waved it away. “I am not concerned, and I do not care. Whatever you two are doing together outside the project, it isn’t my business so long as we move forward.”

Talok’s voice was quiet but acrid. “You agree with the ambassador.”

“What? No, of course not.” Kiran gave a quizzical look. “Our project leads also becoming friends is not a bad thing, Talok. There is nothing inappropriate about your relationship.”

Talok didn’t look at her. It was just as well. “...Then you are pleased with our conduct.”

“Yes! Yes!” He sounded offended by the question. “No one is questioning your integrity, other than the ambassador, but his opinion of you is not important and will not change the Mayor or anyone’s mind.” He cracked the door, and the rumbling became a dull roar. “But you should know: the ambassadors are now involved. They will want to visit us. Talok, if I know them, they will insist on visiting while you are away on Homeworld.”

“That is illogical.”

“I know, but Ambassador Sarek still has a great deal of influence.” Kiran rolled his eyes. “It is also a very old but sometimes effective negotiation tactic. Expect all of them to contact you separately while you are on Homeworld, try to suggest two separate agreements between you and Aafia, and then insist on ‘reconciling’ the two agreements into something new. They have no expectation of getting everything that they want, but they do expect to get something.”

“I understand.”

“Stay here for a few moments until the room is less noisy. Collect your thoughts and decide your next action.” The door shut behind him.

Her eyes stayed on the door. They had done nothing wrong...so what did she feel so awful?

Talok broke the silence. “I believe that the consuls will wish to see me before my departure.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “We should invite them to dinner tonight.”

“I agree.”

She started for the door. “I am going back.”

“Yes.” In the reflection on the door, Aafia saw him looking off to the window. “I will join you shortly.”

She came back to chaos, all of it directed everywhere except at her. When she took her seat once more, she noticed the tablet where they were receiving the consuls’ comments. The last one was from Koss. It read: _Talok, you are honorable. Sarek is wrong. _


	19. Diplomatic Maneuvers

I wish that I could be a bird  
That I could fly, that I could sing,  
That I could touch untouchable peaks,  
That I could forget the roads of the world,  
And never return.  
\--Shiv Kumar Batalvi

++++

Sunrise. Suit, hijab, coat, satchel. Pava washing up in her bathroom. Breakfast at the dining table. Boiled eggs and paratha. Plates cleaned in the kitchen and a breakfast set out for Pava.

Down the steps to the building’s front door. Blustery wet air gushing in.

A white and ginger cat, chirbling and trotting past her legs to escape the cold.

She trudged along the her usual path. The consulates were at their worst yet since the ambassadors’ meeting as they had officially fractured into their old factions: telepaths versus non-telepaths.

It all came from the reports they were submitting to their superiors. Kiran was right that they had been careful to avoid divulging details of the project, but a few of those reports included details about her and Talok. Koss mentioned a few times that the two of them had good working relationship and that she “seems fond of” Talok. Ianiot suggested that they may be having sex, but Kiran reminded her that his culture considered this a marker of healthy cooperation and not a conflict of interests. Holloya stated that Talok was partial to her and neither could do by themselves what they had done together. The others blamed the three of them for assuredly dooming the entire project, and now it was up to them to engineer better outcomes by outflanking the telepaths.

In the office, she did her morning prayers. The tables were messier with just her to look after everything.

Noor walked in. “Dr. Jalal?” they asked. “Kiran wants to meet about the ambassadors in an hour.”

She was at one of the consoles. “Not a problem.”

“I couldn’t put off their visit any longer.”

“I know.”

++

“—Total, four days.” Kiran ran his hands through his curly hair. He already looked tired and it wasn’t even noon, staring into the middle distance between him and the large display built into his desk. "Have. Hm. Have you ever seen Founder Planets' Traveling Cultural Carnival Pageant?"

Aafia was sitting across from him. "No. Why?"

"I have no other point of reference to explain the chaos that will descend on us." Kiran then gave her a strange, hard look. "The best we can hope for is that everyone comes away thinking it was a colossal waste of everyone's time. You have to maintain control."

She reeled. "Kiran, of course I—what are you talking about? What makes you think I wouldn't?"

"The consuls last summer? Remember? Ambassadors are serious people who go to dangerous places where so much as the tone in your voice at the wrong time can risk someone's life. You cannot lose control."

"Kiran, Kiran, I know! I won't!" Of course, the very defensive tone of her voice did not convince him. She rolled her eyes and tried again. "I will not lose control." But she couldn’t stop herself from adding and sneering, “We both know they are here for petty reasons.”

“Yes! But they will treat it like interplanetary summit and they expect us to do the same!” He muttered under his breath, "This would be much easier with Talok around."

Oh, that’s how he was going to be? "Well, he isn't, Kiran!” She threw her hands up, not caring if she knocked over her mug of hot tea or that she was shouting at him. “He is gone and I am here! I have to be both of us!"

He hissed as he raked his hands over his face. "This is what I am talking about. You cannot do that."

Fighting was pointless. This entire ordeal had left her each day feeling empty and frustrated. She sat back in her chair, looking away so she could collect her composure before trying to take off Kiran’s head a second time. This _would_ be easier with Talok….

Kiran leaned forward against the desk. "You two work best as a team," he said gently. "I am sorry he can't be here." Sending him home to his grandchild was still the better decision, no matter how painful it had been to let him go. He took a sip of his tea before moving on. "Diplomacy comes down to skill and knowledge. Our goal is to create moments where you can use your best knowledge and strongest skills. Just, promise that you trust me."

She managed a lopsided smile. "Kiran, of course I trust you." Creating moments. She stared down at the grid schedule on the large display. “The ambassadors are meeting with their subordinates during the first day. What is this afternoon block?"

"An ambassador's retinue includes family and companions along with any staff. As a rule, you always schedule hospitality events for the non-diplomatic members of the retinue to show them local culture and history. If the ambassador has a good companion, that person is interested in learning as much about the locale as possible because they are going to discuss with the ambassador later and help inform their decisions. A great one will let you believe that they never speak with their ambassador about anything other than what they're having for dinner."

The companions would be entertained by an impressive collection of people: Quetta's poet laureate, Chief City Archivist, Head of Nomadic Cooperation, the Quetta Traditional Orchestra, and so on. “No visits to any of the nature preserves….” It gave her an idea. “Kiran, cancel whatever we have for the companions that day.”

He was skeptical, but she could tell he wouldn’t object. “And what will replace it?”

“Me. I’m taking them to the Consuls’ Retreat.”

++

In the daylight, the observatory in the Consuls’ Retreat provided a panoramic view of Lake Hanna and the valley. She had come up here to get away from the party in the main part of the house long enough to review her notes in her mind. At least the translators were on around throughout, removing the need for communication earpieces.

The city’s liaison, Yasim, found her. “Oh good, I found you.”

“How are they?”

Yasim gestured around. “Oh, they are perfectly fine.” A compromise had been reached between Aafia and the Mayor: no one could allow someone so inexperienced to handle the spouses on her own, so the Mayor found the former apprentice of the Retreat’s original architect who was a captivating person in his own right.

In the reflection of the window, Aafia noticed two more people coming up the stairs. “Oh, huh! This is quite a view!”

She turned to see the two other humans in the spouse-group, Ian Troi and Perrin, ascending the steps. Something kept rendering untranslatable with these two whenever she tried discerning their exact relationships with their ambassadors. But as was always the case with humans among off-worlders, the two kept gravitating toward her in ways that they didn’t with the other city officials for the simple fact that Aafia was more available.

Ian gave a friendly wave; Aafia’s impression was him was that he had no business being involved in any sort of diplomacy but was extremely grateful for the opportunity. His interest and enthusiasm for learning about everyone seemed genuine and effortless. On the other hand, Perrin was mysterious and rarely spoke but would mindfully position herself on the edge of Ian’s conversations to listen intently.

He came to the expansive window. “Absolutely gorgeous!” The day was overcast like most days in Quetta’s winter as the clouds threatened to dump snow on them once more. It gave everything a muted color through the valley. “I can only imagine what it is like when the sun is out. Mahé City is a very pretty place, but I think I get sick of having perfect, sunny skies all the time.”

The opening she’d been looking for all afternoon. But what would Talok say to broach the subject? She must be careful. “I understand that the island is very green.” Aia, that was terrible, but Yasim gave her a nod before heading down the steps.

“Very green! Just, absolutely gorgeous.” He leaned on the railing which bordered the windows. “Forests everywhere, even right in the city. Oh, that’s your project, isn’t it?”

She brightened. “Yes. The consuls and the city are very pleased with the proposal.”

“I thought it was a fantastic idea when I first heard it.” He ruffled his dark short hair while sheepishly looking away. “But, huh, well, I don’t know. Lwaxana—that is, the ambassador doesn’t think so, and I defer to her on these matters.”

She shouldn’t give up just yet. “I understand the ambassador’s concern. We had thought about putting in the extra buildings, but the forest makes the most sense for the site.”

“And it would look like the forest here?”

“Yes, in part. We have to work with different people like the juniper guardians and local ecologists because it would be something that could theoretically exist here but wouldn’t exactly follow what is found naturally. It is a rigorous selection process for what we use.” She noticed Perrin tilting her head ever-so-slightly toward them while remaining outside their conversation.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was so much work.” Yes, good! Progress!

Careful. What would Talok do? He would be patient and serene. Take a breath. “For example, we wanted to take saplings from the forest-orchards that have been passed down within communal farms for generations because those young plants would thrive on the site. It would not take long for the saplings to grow and yield fruit. Peaches and apples, to be precise.”

His eyes widened. “Fresh peaches,” he repeated, licking his lips. “I don’t have peaches these days.” He added quickly, “I try to eat what is local to where I am. The ambassador is teaching me to be adventurous.” Well, obviously, Ian and the ambassador had some sort of intimate relationship….

Her moment to strike. “Well, if you come back to the site in a few years, I am certain the consuls would share their peaches with you.”

“What variety of apple grows here?” It was Perrin who spoke this time.

Aafia’s heart almost jumped. Steady. She was winning. “I remember it is one of the sweeter kinds.” She went for a little white lie: “I really like the apples here.” In truth, she didn’t have a strong opinion on the apples in Quetta because she never had a strong opinion on apples in her life.

“I am not fond of sweet apples.”

She had to find a way to win, but she couldn’t lie any further about apples. “I understand we may be able to incorporate apricot trees. As I said, we must be careful with our selections.” It had been mentioned in passing and nothing was set. “And we would only select plants which could thrive in a forest rather than in a greenhouse.”

Ian gasped in delight. “Apricots! My god, I have never had one fresh! Lwa—the ambassador, she’s making a mistake. How can she say ‘no’ to apricots?”

She and Perrin were now staring wordlessly at each other, Aafia careful to never yield from the penetrating gaze of her dark gray eyes. “How much fruit would the trees yield?”

Aafia smiled, holding her ground. “More than enough for the consuls, the expanded staff, and their families. Enough to share with the community or any visitors.” She dropped her voice. “Or send away as a gift during holidays.”

At last, Perrin turned her gaze to the expansive cloudy sky. “Perhaps the ambassador was not apprised of every detail required for arriving at the most logical conclusion.”

Aia, Perrin even spoke like them. She promised herself if she and Talok were ever involved in any meaningful way, she wouldn’t be like that. “Perhaps.”

Ian could catch their meaning but sadly couldn’t be discrete in how he looked over his shoulder. “Well, er, maybe the Vulcan ambassador can convince the Betazoid ambassador. Based on this new information, that is.”

Make the final blow. “Would you like to try some apricots from the forest-orchards here? I believe that the pantry has been stock for your visit should any of you require refreshment.”

“Oh god, yes!” Ian didn’t wait for anyone to follow him to the steps.

Aafia looked to Perrin. Their eyes met. She felt something passed between them. They were testing each other.

Perrin spoke. “Yes. I wish to try an apricot from the forest-orchards here.”

Aafia had won. “Then please, let me show you the way.”

++

“Talok! Oh, if you only you had been here!

“It is only the end of the ambassadors’ first day, and the ambassadors are already reversing their decisions on our proposal. I have just come back from the welcoming banquet. You should be proud of me. I asked myself, What would Talok do?’ and the idea came to me: I can’t convince the ambassadors, but I can convince their spouses.” _I miss you._

“And this is all because of apricots. Yes, apricots! In the spousal retinue were two humans, Ian Troi and Perrin. I still do not understand how they are connected to the Betazoid and Vulcan ambassadors respectively, but I do not care now. I know for certain that there is something between Perrin and the Vulcan ambassador. Remember that the next time he questions your judgment. But enough about them. Apricots! During their afternoon visit to the Consuls’ Retreat, I gave them apricots from the forest-orchards outside Quetta, and they adore them! Although this means we have no choice but to find a way to include apricot trees in our proposal. We can discuss the details. I am certain that we can find a place for the trees in our plan.” _I miss you._

“Aia, you should have seen me! Sometimes, for a second, it felt like you were with me. Perhaps it was how...actually, that is not important. I imagined you by my side whole day and thought of everything we’ve taught each other.” _I miss you._

“I will send you a full account at the end of the visit, but I couldn’t wait. I just had to tell you.” _I miss you._

“I hope your grandchild and everyone in your family is doing well. I hope you will send me pictures. Pictures of children are allowed in your culture, right? Tell me if I’m wrong. I’m certain Vulcan babies are just as cute as human ones.” _I miss you._

“I should stop here. Tell your family I give my congratulations. Oh, I think I said that in my last dispatch. Tell them again.” _ I miss you._

“Ah...I wish you had been there. Well. Goodnight.”

_I miss you._


	20. An Aching Emptiness

The love-stricken can spin no more  
How can she spin  
Once fallen in love  
All routine is set aside  
All duties are forgotten

The madness of love has taken over  
All weaving is lost  
The red spinning wheel and the white cotton  
Does weave no more  
\--Shah Hussain

++++

A brisk wintry night as the cold crowded against the stained glass windows of the cafe nestled within the Khadija Mastoor arcade in Lahore, the cafe with a real wood fire the likes of which most people had abandoned centuries ago but this place insisted on having due to romantic notions about an era that no one alive could remember. A place always buzzing with exciting people, the expectation being that if one set foot inside the place, they were looking for good conversation from strangers who would soon become friends.

“Right?” said someone to the laughing group.

The boba pearls in Aafia’s slushy pink dessert “tea” drink jiggled on her spoon. They looked like fertilized frog eggs. She tapped the spoon again to see them slosh about.

“Aafia.”

She looked up. Her sister and the three friends they had invited out were staring at her.

“Right?”

“Oh. Yes, definitely.”

The others moved on with the conversation but Bahija gave her a concerned look.

The boba pearls were so soft if not a little slimy, a bit like how she imagined frog eggs. Should she be eating them? Was this like eating tadpoles? But they were good and this was the only thing she felt like eating all day.

“Oh, look at the time. We should be going.” “But it’s so early!” “I know, I’m sorry!”

Aafia looked up to her sister bidding their friends farewell. She quickly sucked down the rest of her drink, coughed a few times, and collected her things.

They walked out into the cold together. Bahija took her arm even though the walk to Bahija’s building didn’t take long at all. Aafia pulled her sister’s arm close and interlaced their fingers.

The moment she opened the door to her apartment, Bahija flung herself on the couch amid the soft red lights she had constructed by draping her various old dupatta over lamps throughout the living room. “Tell me what is making you sad.”

Aafia tossed her satchel on the nearby hook. “I’m not sad.”

Bahija frowned. She asked softly, “Would you like mehndi?”

“I would.” The aching emptiness in her chest wouldn’t leave.

While her sister disappeared into the other part of the apartment, Aafia collapsed onto the pillow-filled couch. She pulled off her coat and then her headscarf and her other layers, leaving her in just bra and panties. She crumpled up the clothes and threw them to the other side of the couch in an effort to make herself comfortable. No position felt right.

Bahija returned with elephant-print pyjama pants and everything needed for the mehndi. “Feet or hands?”

Aafia stood up just long enough to put on the pyjama pants. “Feet—no, hands. No, wait—yes, hands. Yes. Hands.”

Bahija settled down on the couch next to her, spreading out her work items on the low brown table before them. “Whoa, you are out of sorts, aren’t you.”

Aafia stuffed a few mehndi-stained pillows in a pile between them before presenting her forearms, palms up. “I am….”

It wasn’t long before she was piping the dark, squishy paste through a transparent soft little cone. Bahija insisted that this was the best way to do it even though there were far easier ways that allowed for finer work. Still, her work was good—not as good as it could be if she used modern tools, but more than good enough to show off in public. She started at the tip of Aafia’s left thumb. “So. What is bothering you?”

“Oh, I don’t know….”

“Well, when did it start bothering you?”

Aafia paused, staring at the swirl of paste squirted onto her skin along her thumbnail. “After the ambassadors left. So I guess…fourteen days ago.”

“But you told me that went so well.”

“It did! It did, and! I don’t know!” She should have opted for feet because her hands kept twitching in defiance of her need to keep them still. “I’m upset! Or I’m sad. I don’t know. I feel terrible.”

Bahija continued her work along the thumb and up to the other fingers, laying out the foundation for whatever design her mind was concocting. The dainty curl of young leaves took shape in the lines.

Aafia broke their silence. “I think I’m angry at Talok. For leaving. Which is stupid! I told him months ago that he should go see his grandchild.” It was very stupid because she’d finally seen pictures of the baby which were so adorable and made her think all over again about when she would have her own children, but she wanted someone with her instead of setting out along that path like some of Bahija’s friends. Lately, she kept wishing that she could do what they do….

“Maybe you are mad at him about something else.”

“Well what else is it?! You know, you know what? I had to figure out how to act like him around the ambassadors! I keep trying, but I really do not understand how he is able to stay calm and not let anything bother him! It would have been easier if he had been around!”

The outline of a pomegranate formed. “But you did it, and you told me how happy you were and how you sent him a message telling him all about it.”

“Well...yes.” Aafia deflated. She wanted to sink deeper into the pillows. “He sent me a reply and there was a woman who interrupted him while he was giving it.” The moment she saw that woman with her dark silver hair cut close to her head and the soft creases of age along her face, Aafia wanted that woman vaporized. She was exquisite, and she must be at least as smart as Aafia. No, smarter. Someone Talok’s age with lots of experience, all types of experience ranging from intellectual to sexual. Someone who liked brandy judging from the glass in her hand at the time and who didn’t fly into a rage because she was like Talok, serene and controlled.

Bahija stopped to give her a mocking smirk. “Of course, you’re jealous.” She turned back to her work. “And he is staying with family?” She scoffed and grinned down at Aafia’s hand. “You are so jealous, it doesn’t occur to you that the woman is either his ex-wife or another relative.”

“Well! Fine! So what if I was jealous! I’m allowed to be! We have an arrangement!”

Bahija glanced up sharply. “You told me about your agreement, and he made it clear that you two were never meant to be exclusive with each other in any meaningful way. You are allowed to be jealous, but you are not allowed to use it to change the rules of your agreement.” She shrugged. “If he is making arrangements with other people, that is his choice. But, I would hope that if he does, he would be courteous enough to tell you first.”

“Alright, alright! I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just keep working.” She looked away to show that this line of conversation was over.

Aafia didn’t notice her sister’s sardonic smile. “Since you asked nicely.”

She stared out the nearby window as her sister worked. Down in the street, the laughter and chatter of a group of people drifted up. She caught what she could. They were talking about going to Mars for a study program. Something about engineering. They were a little nervous because they knew it would be so different and they’d heard people from Mars were a little off—whatever that meant. They weren’t even sure. But they were excited about the chance to go somewhere new. They might even stay if they liked it enough. It wasn’t here, but it could be home.

Aafia took a deep, shaky breath.

“Bahija. I miss him.”

Her sister’s voice was soft and kind. “I know.”

She didn’t have it in her to be indignant. “I’m afraid. He’ll come back from Homeworld, and it will be the last time he comes back. I think he will leave before the end of the project.”

“I think you are right. He has a family and a life away from here. You said yourself last year that you told him to leave because you knew he missed his family. You said that he would finish the buildings before you finished your part, right? Then yes, I would expect him to go back to his family as soon as he could.” She began laying on the mehndi thick to stain the tips of Aafia’s fingers. “But you knew that it would always be temporary.”

“I know….” But she didn’t want it to be temporary. Not anymore.

Pomegranate leaves were coming to life. “You developed a deep bond with someone from another culture, another species, and you have both been under a lot of stress, and he gave you comfort through all of it. I think what you have is very special. I think he recognizes that what you two have is special. It should be celebrated. Your feelings are natural because from everything you told me, he was a good friend.”

She felt herself blushing as she added, “The sex was good too.”

Bahija chuckled. “So you’ve said more than once.” She blew lightly on the paste along Aafia’s fingertips. “And you can treasure those memories when he leaves. The bond won’t be as strong, but you will always have those memories. You met him at a time when you needed him, and I’m happy that he has been part of your life. I would say that he needed you as well because he came here alone.”

She couldn’t look up from her hands.

“What if I want more.”

Bahija stopped, setting down her tools on the table. “Aafia.” She let out a long, slow breath. “He has a life away from here, and he was never yours. He’s a_ grandfather_ now. I...I just don’t see him wanting the things that you want. Not at this point in his life.” Bahija pushed aside a few strands of Aafia’s hair. “Are you certain?”

She sucked back her tears. “What if I want him.” Why did emptiness hurt so much?

Bahija placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Aafia, you can only have it if it’s what he wants too. Oh, come here….” She re-positioned both of them among the numerous pillows so she could hug her tightly from behind without disturbing the unfinished work. “Everything is temporary, including how much pain you feel.”

Asking for mehndi on her feet instead would have been a much better idea as now she had to awkwardly use the crook of her elbow to dab her eyes. “You’re right,” she huffed and sniffled, “because if he wanted those things, he would have told me by now.” She wanted him here just so she could tell him to go away. “And he keeps reminding me that in his culture, people don’t want anything. Nothing but obsession with ‘logic’ or whatever. It is all they care about.” Arranged marriages were probably the only way they could convince people to have children. What a backwards society. “So. It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“Well, then consider making some changes.” Bahija turned her back around and picked up where she had left off. “You have a good friendship, and you want to keep it, right? So, you should set new boundaries.”

“What new boundaries?” But she already knew.

“Well. When he comes back from his homeworld, you need to break your arrangement with him. I know it will hurt, but it will better for both of you in the end. It may be helpful to tell him why. To hear without a doubt that he wants to keep your friendship as it is. He offered the arrangement in the first place to help you, right?”

“Yes….” Their arrangement had become something more. Not just the loss of nighttime meetings in secret. To her, dissolving their arrangement meant losing everything else around it: dinners alone with each other, visits to art exhibits, even walking together. She had planned on asking him to come with her back home and meeting her friends.

“In any case, he can read you when you touch, right?”

Aafia groaned, “Yes.” It would have been so much easier if she could block him. It would have been even easier if she just didn’t feel any of this.

“Then I have an idea.” The mehndhi tickled slightly when laid down on the tops of her wrists. “Invite me to visit during that time. Then I can be with you after you tell him. Would you like that?”

She could feel new tears coming. “I would, I really would.”

“Then I will.” Bahija dabbed at Aafia’s tears for her. “I will visit more often. And I will wait until after you talk to him to tell Baba and Ammi.”

She started taking deep, long breaths lest she begin crying and hyperventilating.

“I love you, Bahi.”

“I love you too, Baby Sister.”


	21. Service and Sacrifice

Heart's yearning unexpressed  
Pristine bouquets left to dry  
Both wisdom and timidity  
Are the nemeses of the heart

Laying yearning on the altar  
Is irreverent and prohibited  
Sovereign heart makes the rules  
In the dominion of the love

\--Amanullah Khan

++++

The lack of snow this morning did not stop the Andorians from playing their games in the part of the site that would soon become her forest. It was one of their rest days. Aafia stood under the portico of the neighborhood mosque. She could hear them gleefully calling to each other in their native tongue. The wind seemed especially savage today.

“_I think, Bahija, I will do Romadan the way our ancestors did. Or maybe for Ramadan, I join a monastery.” _

“_No. Stop making up ways to avoid telling him the truth of why you must stop the arrangement.” _

Talok would not arrive in Quetta until late afternoon.

“_Do for Ramadan whatever it is in your agreement between you and Allah, but do nothing more. Give yourself time to grieve.” _

She filled the hours with wandering through the streets around their site, through the neighborhood’s cafes, through the community rooms set up for neighbors to meet and play games. Time with people kept her mind busy; she already knew that sitting alone in her flat reading graphic novels would not help.

An hour to sundown. She remembered that their office was still a mess compared to how it looked before. She followed the tiled path they had laid down in the summer, doing her best to follow Bahija’s advice: she thought about the staff from each consulate painstakingly placing each individual tile because, although the work put them directly in the hot afternoon sun, it was easier than helping Talok.

The lights of the office came up. Tidying up the office wouldn’t take her very long after all. All of the supplemental work he left for Pava was still stacked up, waiting for her to run out of things to do for them. Now that she thought about it, she never looked through these herself….

The door opened. She didn’t look up. “Office is closed.”

“Aafia.”

From his lips, her own name was an incantation which captured her.

Talok stood in the doorway, covered head-to-toe in the blue of twilight, only a slit to expose his eyes.

She couldn’t speak.

From the many folds of his clothes, his purple-gloved hand produced a thin tablet which she soon realized was made of deep brown stone. “This is for you.” He came only halfway across the room before setting it carefully on one of the desks and taking one step back.

As if spellbound, she approached the desk and picked up the tablet. She gasped, “Oh, Talok….”

Exquisitely etched into the stone and was a picture of his entire family: himself, his three daughters holding his grandchild, his ex-wife and her husband, his two sons-in-law and their parents, his own parents—and even more people whose relationship she couldn’t yet name, including the woman she had seen in one of Talok’s dispatches and who she now realized was undoubtedly one of his relatives. Everyone tinted in shades of gray. They were all arranged either sitting or standing, all wearing the same serious expression she had seen on the faces of humans in photographs from five centuries before.

“I told my family that I may not come back to Homeworld again for a long time. I asked them to give me an image of all of us to counteract the unreality of life here. This is a copy. It is yours to keep.”

There was hesitation in his voice. “I have something else to show you. I apologize, as it is far away from here. Will you come with me?”

How could she refuse?

She had no expectation of what ‘far away’ meant. Walking the streets as the freezing shadows fell over the city, she would abide this. Then a car ride out of the city toward the foot of the mountains in Chiltan-Hazarganji Preserve. Then another walk.

They came to the visitors’ center, peach colored and decorated pine-green stars and murals painted by children from Quetta’s schools. A portico surrounded all sides of the large courtyard containing outdoor divans the color of wine. The sun still peaked over the mountains, but not for long. The hot electric colors of the lights which trimmed the roof eaves glowed.

When they came inside the proper indoor part of the visitors center, the rangers greeted Talok as if they’d known him for years. Aafia lingered back to watch them.

“I am in need of two hover-bicycles.” “Ah! You return from Homeworld! The locker is as you left it.” “I will need to access the locker as well.” “Are you staying the night in the Preserve?”

Talok glanced to her but with all the coverings on his face, she couldn’t read his expression. “I do not know. I shall contact you while we are in the Preserve.”

A ranger gestured to her. “You can both come.”

She followed them into an area she quickly recognized as being meant only for the rangers with lockers and desktop consoles decorated with personal items and alcoves for changing. While Talok went to a locker in the middle of the row and Aafia, waited at the doorway, a few other rangers came over and greeted him with the same familiarity. “Ah! You came back already!” “How is your grandchild?” “When did you return?” “Tell me you have pictures.” She couldn’t name the feeling that came into her chest when he pulled a tablet from his robes let the rangers pass it around, all whom appropriately chuckled and cooed, no doubt seeing the same pictures she’d seen.

Out of the locker came two large square shoulders bags, a stack of blankets, and a pair of beautifully embellished thick cloaks. The rangers wished them well, reminding Talok that he must make contact when he reaches his destination and again if they are staying the night in the Preserve. No one, including Talok, would explain to her why that was a possibility.

Two hover-bikes, trimmed and adorned with lines of hot electric lights, hummed musically and waited for them on the road next to the visitors’ center. The ranger handed Talok a tablet, forms for him to sign, and helped secure his things on the bikes. “Stay safe! Remember to contact us if you spend the night in the Preserve.”

As soon as the ranger left, she asked, “Why do they keep reminding you to contact them?”

“I believe it is something they repeat out of habit.” He handed her one of the cloaks. “You will need this when we go to the mountains.”

The embers of day still lit up the sky as she secured the heavy cloak around her body and face before straddling the bike. They raced off, and she imagined them as two streaks of light along the road in the shadow of the mountains.

The hover-bikes, of course, would only take them so far down the road and up the mountain. Talok brought both packs from the bikes. The first handful of stars were winking overhead between the clouds. The wind pushed against them. The cloak kept it away. Talok led the way but kept close. His hand even whipped out to grab her the one time her foot stumbled over an old gnarled root.

It was at the moment when she wanted to ask how much farther they had to go that their destination came into view. Part of the mountain had a rock face which was cut away, but she still could not quite discern the shape.

They approached the rock face and she quietly gasped in wonder to find that the rock had been fashioned into a home’s facade. It was simple, but she saw two square windows with shutters flanking a threshold with the type of doorway used on starships. He pressed some part of the frame, and the double-door snapped opened to blackness.

Cautiously, she stepped into the dark. Already, the wind stopped. She slid along with her hand against the wall to feel her way inside. She heard Talok somewhere. Then a hum and a large glowing coil which exuded warmth cut on. It looked like a sparse living room with the glowing coil in the dead center. He set down the packs, and then walked over to a panel under the far window.

The ceiling above them lit up with numerous tiny dots. Just like stars. She noticed patterns, but not the patterns that were familiar to her.

He said it as she understood it. “This is how the sky looks at night on Homeworld.”

She could do nothing but sink to her knees. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”

He sat down on his knees far from her, keeping the glowing coil between them. He did not remove the covering from his face.

“Aafia.”

He spoke her name like a prayer. The shadows on his face were still.

“I must ask something of you, my friend.”

She tugged the cloak tighter around her body. “Tell me.”

His dark eyes didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Our arrangement had been in place for twenty-two months. The average number of days between each instance that you have invoked our arrangement is twenty-eight, excluding the months I have spent on Homeworld.”

She didn’t realize it had been so often. The direction of this conversation was obvious. At least they would be in agreement. “Yes, our arrangement, I wanted to talk to you—”

“Please,” he said curtly. “Allow me to finish.” A heavy pause. “We established the arrangement to benefit both of us.” His voice became raw as he spoke his next words: “I wish to invoke it.”

For a fleeting moment, she swore that she had become nothingness. Another moment, and she was back in the room with her heart pounding and her skin sweating. “...Tonight?”

“No.” Another pause. “Next month.”

“...Next month is Ramadan.”

“Yes.” He drew himself to his feet. “Do not answer now. Think over your decision. I will give you privacy.” The double doors hissed open, he walked into the moonlight, and now she was alone as the doors snapped shut.

She stared at the coil. He said _I wish_. Never in the time she’d known him did he use the words _I wish_. The aspirational way to say _I want_. He _wants_ to invoke their arrangement. Allahu Akbar, he wants.

It was warm enough in the room now that she could slip off the outer cloak. His words echoed in her mind. _I wish. I wish_.

She had been so certain moments before about a mutual dissolution of the arrangement.

Yes or no.

What should she do?

Aafia stood up to lay out the cloak on the floor. She turned her back to the door and stood on the cloak, bowing to the darkness. She supplicated to the darkness, her forehead to the cloak, reciting her personal prayer: _Allah, The Guide, The Patient, The Most Gentle, the source of light for my soul…._

Her mind was clear.

She found the voice of her great-grandmother in the depths of her memory.

_Nani, what do I do? I love him. I want to say yes. But it feels wrong. _

_Betaa, it feels wrong because you are saying yes for selfish reasons. You think that if you say yes, it will compel him to love you. _

_I do. I want him to love me. And I also want to honor our arrangement. It is my duty as his friend. He told me he wants. His people do not want things, and yet he wants me._

_He wants your arrangement. He is asking for help. But when you give your help to any person, you must also ensure that you are caring for yourself at the same time. Otherwise, you cannot help them. _

_Ramadan in our family is a time of service and sacrifice. Surely it is the right time to give him my help._

_But it is also a time that we care for our own souls. Ramadan is our time for overcoming desire through fasting of the senses. We must turn inward. How can you turn inward when you are giving all of your senses to his pleasure and sustaining a desire that you cannot know is returned? _

_But I love him. I cannot refuse him._

_That is not true. You have argued and disagreed with him many times. You are choosing to gratify your own desire for your own reasons. He is simply the focus. When he speaks things that gratify your desires, you blame him for your own refusal to control your actions. _

_But I love him. _

_This is not the way to express your love. This is not service and sacrifice. _

She sat up.

Opening the doors, she found Talok at the house’s edge as a dark figure in the sparse moonlight as the clouds rolled over. The wind was unceasing.

The residual cold of outside lingered even as the doors closed behind him. He settled once more on his knees. His eyes were unreadable.

She could felt her pulse in her ears. “I need to know why you are asking me.”

Glacial stillness. His eyes closed. “The end of my cycle approaches. The goal of our arrangement was to provide a safe outlet for certain biological compulsions. This arrangement is the only one I have established since the project began, and, for psychological reasons, it is logical that I maintain such an arrangement with you alone.” The slightest edge in his voice. “My expectation in our arrangement was that if I remained here during the completion of my cycle, I could invoke it without pretense.” His tone softened once more, sounding apologetic. “As you have said to me, you may choose to reject my request.”

She still remembered his words: the end of his cycle would reveal the worst of his character.

The worst of his character. The answer became clear.

At last, she felt at peace. “I will assist you. After Ramadan.”

She saw the eye-crinkle. “I must know.”

Her gaze went to the false stars along the ceiling. From other conversations with him and the other Vulcans, to say that their people believed in a soul was incorrect: they _possessed_ a material soul, or at least something like it, and it could be preserved and live on beyond their bodies. She’d listen to them talk with the imam and try to understand why humans spent their entire lives questioning the existence of their own souls. Where should she start?

She quieted her mind. She would speak with her heart.

“Ramadan connects me with the community here in Quetta. I choose to fast through refusing food or drink or material pleasures because it grants me the focus to enrich my soul, and connecting to the community here during Ramadan reminds me that I am part of a whole.

“I do not know if I truly have a soul. Perhaps it is an illusion. But I know that if I can overcome the desires of this body, I am enriching that thing I think is my soul, and I become closer to Allah.

“Allah is what I choose to call the universe. I do not know if a greater consciousness which can interact with me. But, there must be something greater than you or I, something divine beyond what is real. Why not? You and everyone else who came to Earth from other planets, you exist and you are here and—and why should I not believe in the divine and that Allah has granted all of us something that exists but that I cannot yet perceive? I cannot perceive the atoms of my body with my senses, but they undoubtedly exist.

“I must enrich my soul, even if I cannot perceive it, through sacrifice and service. It is my agreement with Allah.”

Her throat tighten. “What you are asking, I cannot do during Ramadan. It would not be service or sacrifice.” She prayed with every part of her being that he would not inquire further. The false stars seemed to shimmer. Or maybe it was just the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “After, I promise. I will honor our arrangement.”

His words came in a hollow whisper. “I understand.”

He understood. It was almost as painful as she had expected, but it was necessary. They had time. There was time to talk. But right now, she just wanted to look at the beautiful false stars and let go of what could have been.

When she looked back to him, she saw he’d begun unpacking and pulled the veil from his face. “You may stay with me here, if you wish.”

She breathed out all of the tension and anxiety and fear inside her over what had transpired. They still had their friendship. “I would very much like to.”

While Talok contacted the forest-rangers, she reasoned that finishing the unpacking was the most useful thing she could do in the moment. More blankets, as should be expected. Unfortunately, everything else was labeled in Vulcan script. “How did you find this place?” she asked to distract from her fumbling about.

He took on the other of the large bags. “I built this.” Yes, of course he did! What a stupid question, ‘how did you find this place.’ He was an architect! “It is not finished.”

Say something intelligible! “Oh, well, I like what you have so far.”

“There is still much work to be done.”

“Oh? May I see?”

Talok stopped what he was doing and, for the first time since she had met him, raised his eyebrows at her as if he were incredulous. He didn’t even answer right away. “Yes. Please follow me.”

In the entire course of their friendship, this was the first time Aafia saw him explain his work in any detail. The reason was simple: she didn’t have the background and, really, she had only a cursory interest in building architecture. But the slight uptick in the tempo of his words when describing a particularly difficult part of the bed chamber, the subtly loving way he traced his fingers over the fixtures in the restroom where he had installed a Subbaruman toilet, the subsumed pride in his features when his hand passed over the cut-marks from where he had hewed with his tools—it all made her want to learn everything he knew. What exquisite pain; here she was, falling in love with him again.

“—I agreed with the forest-rangers that they would design the interior once I completed the house. My training does not cover aesthetic theory.” They returned to the front room she now realized was the living room. “I expect to complete the house before I return to Homeworld.”

She thought of the nights he spent under the stars lying on the ground warmed by the sun. There was something so romantic about how he immersed himself in the ecology of a world that was not his own while working with its caretakers.

Two folding chairs, two medical kits, a toolbox, a cookset, a water-box, even more blankets, bedding, and finally, to her surprise, a bed-frame and a thin mattress. “I apologize that I did not bring two beds,” murmured Talok.

“I don’t mind!” No, that was too eager. “I mean. I will be fine. I won’t be uncomfortable.” Better to just take one of the chairs before she did something stupid.

He opened the cookset box to pull out two bars of something dark and dense, and she realized as soon as he handed her one that it was their dinner. “This will help you regain the nutrients and calories you have lost in our journey here.” He pulled the other chair next to her.

She took a sniff. They smelled faintly of dates, reminding her that she was very hungry. She took a bite. “Mm,” she managed, clamping her hand over her mouth to stop her from spitting it out. Better to just choke it down.

“Is it satisfactory?”

She couldn’t lie to him. Her grimacing wouldn’t let her. “Talok, this tastes very bad.” She took another hesitant bite. She coughed. “Ach, this is very bad.” Maybe she could get used to the taste.

“I apologize that I cannot help the taste. They are the rations I occasionally used when traveling here to work on the house.”

“You don’t have to!” Aia, why was it so bad? She needed to wolf down the bar as quickly as possible. Change the subject. “Who else has seen the house?”

The glowing coil and the false stars gave the room a warm, low light, and she swore that his cheeks changed color. “The forest-rangers. I have not shared it with anyone else from the project or the consuls.”

Just what she had always wanted. A secret that belonged to them alone.

Maybe the awful taste of dinner was exactly what she needed to take her mind off how hard the evening had been. They talked, just like they always did, and she listened to so many of his stories about the forest-rangers who had befriended him and were enamored with his strength. She could finally tell him everything he missed while on Homeworld. He told her about his grandchild. She told him about Pava’s progress.

Without a clock anywhere nearby, time lost meaning as they talked. Only when she interrupted herself with all of her yawning did they migrate to the cot, and still they talked.

They talked while lying side-by-side in their clothes, the blankets and bedding piled into the bed with them. They talked as her eyelids became too heavy to stay open. They talked as her words became fragments and as her voice became a whisper.

Talok’s gloved hand folded over her naked one as she finally drifted off to sleep.

And she never once said something stupid like “I love you.”


	22. The Project Leaders Are Going On Vacation

Thy waist is like a cypress-tree, sugar thy tongue, in sooth;  
Thy lip is candy, and thy skin like Frankish satin smooth.  
Thy teeth are pearls and diamonds, the gates of dulcet tones;  
Thine eyes are gold-enamelled cups adorned with precious stones;  
Thou art a rare and priceless gem, most wonderful to see;  
A ruby rich of Mt. Bedakhsh, my love, thou art to me.  
\--Sayat Nova

++++ 

Early spring always cast a melancholic malaise over Asyhl when it became clear that the days of ice and snow were over. Playing host at The Consuls’ Retreat for his peers gave some fleeting comfort. 

He glanced over at his peers in the adjoining lounge from behind the kitchen counter while he kept busy preparing dinner. A small window in the kitchen let in the afternoon light. Ianiot approached the counter and asked in a low voice, “Did you not invite the project leaders?”

He furrowed his brow at his own answer. “I did and they told me that they both had a previous engagement.” 

A moment later, Holloya piped up while luxuriating her whole body across a well-cushioned divan, “Dr. Jalal and the Master Architect both had a previous engagement? What could it possibly be?” 

Gangless was at a wall console looking through the Retreat’s database for music. “What does it matter? The project continues on its timeline. If they choose to not join us, I do not begrudge them. They have been quite efficient.” 

“I like to know things,” grumbled Holloya. 

Kiran took up another of the divans. “Both mentioned told me that they were preparing for some kind of vacation.” He didn’t find the fact very interesting. “They will be away for most of this month.” 

Utryra came to attention. “Both? They are both taking leave at the same time? Who will look after the project?” 

Kiran shrugged off the question. “I will. We worked it out. The other people working on the project know what to do. My only duty is a meeting with these people every other day.” He sat up just long enough for a single, lazy stretch of his back. “They are leaving detailed instructions. Truthfully, after all the work they did, the project could continue without them.” 

Utrya considered the matter. “It seems strange that the Master Architect would take leave so soon after his time on Homeworld.” 

“That is not the same and you know it.” He reached for the brandy decanter and a glass on the side-table. “He worked everyday he spent on Homeworld. He had to so Dr. Jalal could handle your superiors. This is a proper vacation. In fact, he told me that we should assume it is nigh impossible to contact him. Someone would have to go seek him out where he is.”

Mwit lounged against the kitchen counter because she liked smelling the scents from the kitchen. She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “We move back to our building while they are away, right? This timing is strange. Do you suppose they are hiding something? Aside from Kiran, none of us have been at the site.” 

Kiran scoffed into his glass. “They have lunch with me everyday and I never get complaints. I cannot imagine what they are hiding.” 

Asyhl had a spare moment. “I disagree. My Pava tells me a different story.” She would become his successor, he knew it, from how happily she conspired with him to give as much information about the project as she felt relevant—even if he could tell when she was holding back, which he allowed; a good diplomat never says everything at once. “You see them during lunch, but they are otherwise away from each other. They no longer leave at the same time or make plans with each other.” Nearly everyone was captivated. “It seems...there may have been a disruption to their friendship.” 

The only one not taken by any of this was Koss who was on his feet and seemed to be stewing in his corner with a permanent crease in his brow. Only now did he choose to speak up. “There has been no disruption.” 

The whole room turned to him. “And?” invited Holloya. “You know this?” 

“The Master Architect told me. He found me twelve evenings ago outside the residence provided to the Vulcan consulate while the buildings on-site are renovated. He wished to speak with me.” 

“About what?”

“I will not break his confidence.” He took a rather elaborate breath. “But you should know that he was wearing gloves.” 

His audience gasped with Kiran nearly dropping his glass and Asyhl just narrowly rescuing a pan of stew. Utyra got the words out first: “You tell us this now?!” 

Koss’ voice had the slightest tint of indignation. “He assured me that there was no need to concern any of you. He was taking responsibility for his needs.” 

All attention bolted to Kiran. “You didn’t notice?! Where did he say he was going?!” 

“I-I don’t know, I didn’t, you know I don’t pay attention to these things if I can help it!” retorted Kiran, fumbling with his now-empty glass. “Somewhere near the coast! Around Gwadar!” 

So distracted by the conversation, Asyhl allowed the bread in the tandoor to burn. The eyes of the room had already shifted to him. The telepaths already knew he knew. 

“Asyhl! Share!” 

“I’m busy!” He frantically pulled the smoldering remains from the opening. 

“What do you know!” 

“I will! I will!” He was not above taking a dramatic pause. “Pava tells me that Dr. Jalal is also going to Gwadar for her vacation.” 

Ianiot shouted with joy. “I KNEW IT!”


	23. I Long For You, What Can Be Done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very thing you've been wating for is spread across this chapter and the next. Enjoy. Nothing wrong if you ending up skipping the other chapters here because I did try to make sure this was enjoyable reading by itself.

I long for you, what can be done?

I cannot live, I cannot die.

I long for you.

\--Bulleh Shah

++++

Aafia packed for almost every reasonable scenario—visiting the beach, sightseeing, casual dinner, formal dinner, a casual lunch in a formal setting, accidentally running into someone she knew, accidentally running into someone  _ he _ knew, late-night runs for last-minute items that could “enhance the mood” or whatever it is she should expect…was she forgetting something?

Did she bring too much?

The sunshine of the early spring morning came through numerous windows decorating the lounge car of the Sightseer’s Train which took its meandering path through the breathtaking beauty of Balochistan. Docents floated between knots of groups, detailing the natural history of everything beyond the windows in soft, honeyed voices.

She and Talok found a crescent-shaped couch in a corner facing one of the larger picture windows. He was being strange, reticent yet seeming restless with silence.

Ramadan had given her clarity. It gave her time to mourn what she would lose after this trip. The only time she saw him outside the project during the last month had been in passing at the nearby mosque; sometimes he observed worship, sometimes he listened to the imam’s students who vigorously debated each other while loitering around the mosque’s entrance. Nothing out of the ordinary: Pava had done the same during her first Ramadan. Strange that when the holiday stood between him and something he wanted that he bothered to show any interest.

Only now, seeing an oasis and its sparkling lagoon in the distance nestled among the banded and ancient cliffs, she wondered if they should have discussed the trip. But what was there to discuss? To her, it was self-evident. Sex, of course, and him being ‘illogical’ and probably acting like a brute, but nothing she couldn’t handle. And, it wasn’t like he’d mean anything he said. He couldn’t control himself. He advised her to ask for help right away from the staff at their hotel if anything became too much for her. He may not be in his right mind, but he still would give her every tool possible to make sure she felt safe with him.

And so the Sightseer’s Train took its path, showing off every gem of Balochistan. The great, rising rocks which witnessed how the first humans tamed the first camels.

How do you persuade a member of a different species to trust you wholly?

Their destination was a pretty, stout building, white and blue designs on the facade and indigo curtains in the windows on each of the three floors. From the ground, the building’s flat roof seemed a lovely place to enjoy the sun and a view of the beach.

A lovely plump woman came out of the building, her voice effervescent. “Hello! So glad to see you, Talok! And this must be Aafia, right? I’m Hina. “We are so happy to be hosting both of you.”

Hina’s smile was infectious and Aafia already felt herself reflecting it back as they followed her with their luggage. “Thank you. Is the beach far?”

“ Oh no, just a few minutes’ walk!” She walked backwards to give them her full attention, and the ease with which she moved through their space indicated she knew every centimeter. Already, the foyer of the building was calming and in so many different shades of blue. Their footsteps were almost silent on the plushly carpeted steps.

Hina took them to the first door on the right, turquoise patterns on a white background reminiscent of a foamy sea. “We know that this is a very special visit.” Her smile strained a little as she added, “Talok spent quite a bit of time visiting to make the arrangements.”

Talok shot her an acrid look. “I had questions.”

“ Yes! Quite a few!”

Although Hina was pleasantly hospitable throughout their tour of the spacious and open apartment, none of it assuaged the urgent realization that she and Talok should have begun their journey with a very in-depth conversation about expectations and experiences and exactly what (Allah forgive her!) she had agreed to doing. Truth be told, despite many boyfriends and passing flings that Aafia had dabbled in, she was a creature of habit when it came to sex. She knew what she liked and didn’t feel any need to explore. An interspecies ‘arrangement’ was quite daring, yes, but she wasn’t asking him to do...well. The sort of things that were available to them in the apartment.

“— And this is The Green Room,” continued Hina brightly, “and as you can see we have lots of options—” The mint-green walls repelled Aafia. “—sheaths, of course, to help with interspecies intimacy, lots of harnesses—” Her gaze focused on the giant chain spider web in the corner. “—the nerve-stimulating bodysuits are laundered everyday should you use them, the Spinal-Clamp with remote controller for more precise restraint, also the Ayesha’s Shroud for more extreme restraining—” Seeing Talok’s expression of reserved approval did nothing to help. “—And of course, lots of other different kinds of toys for activity such as impact play or whatever tickles your creativity. I know Talok expressed an interest in physical restraints versus neural interfacing, and we have plenty of items to assist in that regard.”

Aafia tried to swallow her discomfort when Talok replied, “I brought my own.”

Neither heard Hina mutter under her breath, “Of course you did.”

“— And of course, the bedroom and adjoining wash area, toilet in its own closet—” Why did the bed-frame look like the skeleton of a box? “—the engineer did certify that all sixty-four anchor-points on frame can withstand the force calculations you gave without issue, same goes for the anchor-points along the walls—” How long had Talok been talking to these people about this?! “—The drawers on each side have plenty of aides, and of course, more toys, the soak tub has plenty of room for two, as does the shower—” Allah forgive her, she never should have agreed to this!

Hina went through the rest of the rules and safety tips that was white noise to Aafia’s brain as she tried to grasp all of the new information. Somewhere, Hina mentioned that Talok had requested that one of the staff come up to check on them each day for some reason that Aafia immediately forgot.

“ Any other questions?” She deliberately turned to Talok. “Anything at all?”

Talok gave her a slight bow. “No, this is satisfactory. Thank you.”

Hina visibly relaxed. “Very good! Like I said, there are emergency call buttons in every room.” Her smile turned impish as she stepped through the doorway. “Have fun, you two.”

_ Come back!  _ It was too late.

The skin all under her hijab was horribly hot and itchy as she turned back to Talok and managed a timid smile. “...Well, we should unpack first.”

His gaze could cut steel. “Yes. After we unpack, I would like to invoke our arrangement.”

If he was going to be this forward, she should be too. “Wait, now—” she couldn’t stop wagging her finger at him and before long, she was barking every word at him, “—Just! Wait, now! You know—because—well, I think—” Even if she fumbled over her words, time she spent talking was time she could take to collect her thoughts; she emphasized each word with a savage twist of her wrist like they were crossing swords. “You!” As she had hoped, he stepped back from her immediately with a flummoxed expression. “You are going to explain to me what all of this is, because if you think that you can, can just  _ tie me up _ without a very long conversation—”

“ Aafia, no, no.” He looked so hurt at the suggestion. He took one step toward before going to his knees. “No, I would never, I would never do such a thing to you.” His gloved hands were clasped together. He bowed in supplication in the very way she had every time she prayed. “They are for me.”

Allah be praised. “Oh,” she huffed, her body still buzzing with adrenaline even as she found her composure. “I see.” Suddenly Hina’s behavior toward Talok made sense. “What Hina said about the engineer was because you—oh. Right. Because—right.” He_ was_ quite strong. “And you want that?”

“ Yes.” He slowly raised himself to meet her gaze. Speaking seemed painful. “I do...want that.”

Finding her center again, she offered a flirtatious smile. “Well. I shouldn’t keep you waiting.” If they would be here quite a while, she should do a thorough job of unpacking. She left him to his own luggage. Had she brought too many scarves? Maybe. She wouldn’t worry about it. Already, she was settling into a mindset of enjoying their time together as much as she could. One last, wonderful romp before they dissolved the arrangement.

His voice came over her shoulder. “I brought you a gift. For our...arrangement.”

In his hands was something blackish-green reminding her of leaves on a moonless night. She picked it up, finding the material soft as chick’s down yet behaved as if it was liquid. It unfurled, revealing itself as a bodysuit, covering even the hands and feet, with a collar that opened at the slightest tug.

“ It is designed to conform to any wearer.”

She smiled in gratitude but now realized they’d never seen each other completely disrobed. Only now was she feeling self-conscious about her body. He wasn’t human, after all. What if he finds her repulsive?

She corralled herself in the toilet closet to change into the bodysuit. There was a clear divide between dark tawny and sepia on her skin from tanning in her field clothes—and she had never cared enough about having a uniform color to visit clothing-free beaches. So many freckles too. She reminded herself that, until now, she had liked the way she looked, so nothing should change that. All the field work had given definition to her compact body, from her calves and thighs to arms and shoulders. However, she wasn’t slender like any Vulcan woman.

The bodysuit was like bathing herself in liquid muslin and felt impossibly good against the most delicate parts of her skin. He was right about how it conformed to her body; it looked painted on yet felt weightless and freeing. She kept the braid of her hair pinned securely in a swirl on her head. Although...she didn’t remember her thighs being that big. Or her breasts being that asymmetrical. At least her calves and forearms looked good….Maybe Talok would also insist on wearing a blindfold.

She emerged. He was standing at the bed, his back to her. A moment to observe him.

The numerous folds of his russet-red clothes fell away. Feeling his body when grabbing at him under all those layers was one thing. But seeing him, the way his desert-sand skin gently rolled with his muscles, was a truly different experience. Her mind’s mental map of his body did him no justice—her mind could not capture the tiny scars, the veins, the discolorations, all the beautiful imperfections that made him real. Past the small of his back, her eyes watered from the force will required to hold herself back from burying her face into the cleave of his buttocks.

When he turned around, he reflexively grabbed one of his many cloaks on the bed to hide his hips. A tinge of green blush came to his cheeks as his dark eyes flicked up and down her body over and over. She was seized with an overwhelming urge to eat dinner off his chest.

Better say something. “Is this satisfactory?” She managed her most seductive smile and sensuous pose.

“ Yes,” he breathed, quickly turning as she noticed the blush spreading. “I apologize. I need more time to prepare.”

Space, he needed space. She laid out along the vermillion lounging couch at the foot of the bed. She was facing away but could still admire him the grand oval mirror on the opposite wall as he carefully arranged all of the ‘personal restraints’ that he had hinted at earlier. “Do you have a safeword that you prefer?”

The nerve of him to scoff! “I see no reason,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror with a strange and condescending expression. “You cannot hurt me. We can also read each other if we must.”

“ Talok, no. I refuse to do anything without one.” She may not be adventurous, but she knew enough to make sure neither she nor her partners overstepped a boundary.

“ Very well.” How dare he roll his eyes! “We shall use the term ‘safeword’ for your own comfort.” In the mirror, he shot her one last patronizing glance.

“ Thank you.” While she waited, Aafia could now survey the room without the panic from before. A wonderful floral and geometric motif in all décor, elegant vases of fresh flowers, the indigo curtains she saw from the street—save for the rings on the wall behind the bed, the room was similar to any other bedroom she’d had during her stay in Quetta. Talok must have known that he couldn’t ask everything of her right away.

She glimpsed his restraints in the mirror with interest. Curious. Slender, artfully curved pieces of an exoskeleton, bone-white with sea-green etched embellishments, He clamped them around the crooks of his elbows and his knees. A glove-like set of cuffs wrapped around each individual joint in his fingers and thumbs. A soft slipper-like cuff on the foot. A collar on his neck. And then he disappeared from the mirror.

At last, he called to her. “I am prepared.”

On the onyx sheets he lay supine, soft and wispy dark hairs sprinkles up and down his body, his arms invitingly placed up by his hand to provide full-access. The bone-white of the restraints had a wet shine in the warm amber light. Near his head, something the same color as the other restraints and a bundle of thick claret straps which must have been provided by their hosts. She stood by the bed and traced a finger over the spider-like harness which clasped at his hips and thighs. With the bodysuit covering her hands, she only felt its smoothness. He remained still. Like he was waiting.

The skin of his neck and chest now had an olive undertone. The intensity in his dark, heavy-lidded eyes was like nothing she’d seen in him before. “I would prefer that you use the straps first,” he said in a smoky, mellow voice, “in whatever manner you find appropriate.” The bundle of straps was heavier than she had expected. “This is a mandibular restraint—” he picked up the thing which she now noticed looked like a decorated bridle for a camel, “—please use this last. I will be unable to speak once it is placed on me.”

This felt like a test. Think. “...Well. I think I would like to use the straps to press you against the bed.” Was that the right word? That sounded close enough, right?

He visibly sank into the bed, a shaky exhalation through his teeth. “That is satisfactory.” She relaxed at the sight of his sly half-smile—for the first time since they had met, a real smile.

She should start at his feet. All of the restraints which Talok already wore had small golden rings she could use for anchoring. Oh good, someone had the forethought to color-code. The other end of the first straps found two anchor points at the bottom of side rails. She adjusted the tension on the straps until she saw his heels pressing into the bed.

She ran her fingers up his shins, wishing that the thin cloth of the bodysuit would disappear and let her touch his bare skin. “Is that satisfactory?” she asked and made her voice like velvet.

He gripped the headboard to pull himself up. The straps would not yield as they pinned his ankles, causing him to gasp softly. She now saw the familiar light in his eyes that appeared whenever they agreed to a secret rendezvous. Finally!

Two more straps for his knees. Talking would help settle her anxiety. She maintained a sultry tone. “You must be very experienced to know precisely what you want.”

A simper in his voice. “Yes.” A sharp breath as she increased the tension on his right knee. “Others. Never with T’Pai.” She halted when he added with a chortle, “By the end of our marriage, we were simply tormenting each other. A part of me misses that intensity.” The next lusty sign was clearly him remembering that time.

Oh. The worst of his character. In all her imagining of the trip, it never once occurred to her that his ex-wife would come up. Well, he wasn’t quite in his right mind now, obvious from how emotive he had become in a matter of minutes. Maybe it was nothing. She should remind him of the present. “But.” Perhaps she tugged a little too hard at the strap on his left knee. “You two are friends now.”

The added pressure did nothing. “Oh, yes,” he replied with a sardonic snort, “of course, we had no choice.” Aafia didn’t like the sudden silence that fell over him. He broke it with acrid words. “She told me she and Stron are giving away the house I built.”

Stopping her work, she reached out for his face only be warded away by an unnervingly pleasant ‘please don’t touch me.’ This was more like what she had expected. “Did she tell you why?”

He rolled his eyes at the question. “Iria and T’Ya are married with homes of their own, and T’Saan lives with her betrothed. None of them are interested in taking the house. She and Stron have no need for it anymore.” He turned up to the ceiling. He spoke through clenched teeth. “She never considered asking if I would be interested in taking the house.”

Aafia picked up another strap. He needed the catharsis of talking. “She told me and, ah, what should I say? For a moment, we were married once more. I found myself tempted by old habits.” Hm, quite a few anchors on the harness. “I did not want to talk. I wanted to tear off her clothes and pin her against the cabinets she always hated” he interrupted himself with a growl, “her favorite place for sex because she knew how much skill they had taken and it was her way of disrespecting my work.” He was there but he was far away, back on Homeworld, lost in his memories. “When we were together, we were like metallic sodium and water. I am still so thankful that she met Stron.”

He needed support, not sex. Right now, she did whatever she could to sound kind. “Why do you say that?”

“ Why should I not? Stron is sensitive and kind—ah!—” he flashed her yet another sly half-smile as now she folded his arms against his chest like birds’ wings. The straps now pulled his shoulders up from the bed thanks to the anchor points above their heads. (Aia, she didn’t think his mood would shift so often) “—perhaps it was guilt or simply an abundance of empathy that led him to—” A suppressed snicker “—support me through my divorce. Before T’Pai and I drew up our own agreement for when I could visit the house, Stron brought my children to see me at every opportunity. On occasion, he visited simply as a friend.” A reminiscing smile. “He would ask me to come make minor repairs on the house, so minor that I could have taught him. I thought he was being overly cautious. I only realized many years later that he did when T’Pai was away so I could see our children.”

There were still a few straps left in her hand. This didn’t feel right. “Talok.” She bit her lip. “We don’t have to do anything. We can talk instead.”

“ What? No, please!” With his arms folded against his chest, he still managed to reach out his palms and press them together in supplication. “Aafia, please, do not stop.” Maybe this was a kind of sexual game among his people.

His playful writhing, the way his undulations rolled from his chest through his abdomen ending with a buck of his hips, his eager moans, were enough to remind her how much she would like to grab him by the hair and bury his face between her thighs. A lustful smile spread across his face.

She watched the smile grow into a grin as she anchored the final strap, the one for his collar, to the wall behind the bed.

Her hands trembled with excitement as she picked up the mandibular restraint. Would his lips be rough or tender? She took his face in one hand, her heart pounding with anticipation. Allah forgive her, she may climax from the kiss alone!

His eyes closed. The grin remained. She saw a tear roll away.

Immediately, she dropped the restraint. “Talok?”

Through his grin, a choked sigh slipped out. Another tear fell away.

“ Talok?” She used the quick-release on the straps for his collar and his arms. As soon as he was freed, he hid his face in his hands and pressed himself into the bed. “Safeword, safeword, Talok, what’s wrong?” His legs strained, and she realized that he wanted to curl up. She used the same quick-releases on the rest of the straps, and right away he pulled up his knees to his chest. What had she done?

A suppressed wail rippled through him. Space, she should give him space. She found a stool by the vanity and pulled it up next to the bed. “Talok,” she urged, now very concerned, “please, talk to me.”

Only one hand dropped away to reveal half a tortured smile. “It was a matter of time before you found out,” he murmured.

She scooted the stool as close as she could, her knees pressing against the edge of the bed. She needed her kindest, most soothing tone. “What would I find out?” Allahu Akbar, what had she done?

“ I.” He swallowed a sob. “I found myself enjoying your company when I came here. I have never left Homeworld. I couldn’t. I could not let my children believe I had abandoned them. And you were the other project leader. Building a friendship was—” he let out a soft, mournful laugh “—logical.”

“ You expressed frustration at your own lack of physical companionship. Similar arrangements for unwed people are common on my planet between people with no intention of marriage. Two friends allowed me to have such an arrangement after T’Pai. To offer you the same was—” He sucked back fresh tears “—logical.”

He sat up but curled in on himself, making him seem small and fragile. Instead of looking at her, he kept his gaze down. As if looking at her would break him. “When our hands touched in the office that night, I was certain that anything I felt was simply the ache of loneliness passing itself off as infatuation. I saw you with Khalil, and I believed that you would forget about that moment. He left you. There were others, and you lost interest in them. I was certain that you were too flighty and selfish for the type of arrangement my people offered to one another. But I remained fascinated by what passed between us.

“ Our friendship grew and my curiosity in that moment grew as well. The night with the consuls, I was reminded that I had no such arrangement with anyone here and I knew I could not return to Homeworld. You were my friend and you had been receptive before. To ask you again was...well. Logical.”

He was hugging his shins, chin resting on his knees, tearful eyes staring off at the far end of the room. “The night you first invoked our arrangement.” A heartbreaking sigh of an emotion that Aafia could not name but still felt. “I...I could never have imagined the experience. I felt...you. I felt—” He growled under his breath. “I do not have the words. I know what I felt and read. That absence inside me was gone, briefly.

“ I sought any logical reason to be near you. After all, if you could soothe the ache inside me, it was logical to bring myself closer to you. Each time you invited me inside you, the absence grew smaller only to hurt deeper each time we parted. And still!” It was a strangled sound, like a choke and a chortle, and the disturbing sudden curl of his lips. “Still! I believed that my experience was simply biological! I was certain that, with our curiosity satisfied, we would grow bored with each other.”

“ I went to Homeworld at your request.” He pressed his forearm against his face in another attempt to hide. “I meditated. I worked. I truly believed I had cured myself of the absence. I….” She couldn’t tell if the anger in his voice was directed at her or himself. “I came back, and once again, I grieved, and the absence returned. I would choose time with the consul’s staff over time with you. I would continue building the house in Chiltan-Hazarganji. I would do everything logical to separate myself from you.”

Stillness. He seemed quietly flabbergasted by his own words. “You respected my boundaries. You kept your distance. How! How is it possible that you could do nothing and draw me back to you!” His glassy stare was reaching back in time through so many months. “I think the past summer was the most content I have been in a long time….I know there were other times….But somehow, I cannot remember them.”

And suddenly, he straightened up, dropping his knees to sit in a lotus position, his hands folded in his lap. But still, he wouldn’t look at her. “The day we met with the ambassadors and my indiscretion that morning—I am grateful for that moment. I gained clarity. I could not continue on that path.” As abruptly as he’d seized control, he lost it again and the man she knew disappeared into a fog of roiling emotion.

His face contorted into a smirking grimace. “But you should not trouble yourself. I found a solution! The most logical solution!” Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. And now she finally looked at him; she saw so much pain and joy and sorrow and even more she couldn’t name. A twinge of fear cramped in her chest. “A fire which cannot be walked around should be walked through! I never liked the medical intervention of my cycle, and now, at last! I control my madness! I want to walk through this fire! I want.  _ To burn _ .”

Aafia’s eyes drifted briefly to the door. Talok didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the thunderstorm that was consuming him. He was smiling and crying at the same time. “I have spent months on the edge of illogic! The only logical course was to walk through the fire! Delay is illogical! The day I left here for Homeworld, I ripped out my implant. I would experience my cycle without intervention, naturally, as the universe intended!” He offered his forearm to reveal a zig-zagging scar that looked deep and painful. “How else will I purge myself? I can feel the flames of madness overtaking me even now!”

Slowly, she reached to caress him. “Talok—” Such a sweet yet foreboding voice answered back. “—I said don’t touch me.” She hastily withdrew her hand.

He leaned toward her and dropped his voice as if telling her a delicious secret. “The young men you prefer, I know that I am not one of them.” He spoke as if he’d said something so obvious to both of them it was laughable to say aloud. “I cannot expect you to see me as you see them. It is  _ illogical _ .”

Still laughing, he stretched out along the bed. And then within moments, tranquility fell over his features as if he’d found peace. “When I would go to Chiltan-Hazarganji,” he began quietly, “I could almost imagine that I was on Homeworld. I see it in my dreams almost every night. But...then, I began to see you as well. And I saw a house, different from the one I built for T’Pai. And then...I would see a child.” His eyes were glassy. “You would braid her hair and then take her outside to build a path.”

Aafia couldn’t take anymore. She hugged her head, anything so he wouldn’t see her face.

At the sound of her hiccuping sobs, Talok’s voice became urgent and fretful. “Aafia, please, no! Why do you cry? What have I done?”

She twisted herself away from him on the stool. No matter how much she wanted them to stop, tears wouldn’t slow. When she felt him kneeling beside her stool on the floor, his hands petting every part that he could reach, the tears only came in larger waves.

“ Aafia, shh,” he crooned sweetly. “I take back everything I said. Shh….” She felt his lips through the bodysuit press gently against her ankles and shins, and she gave no resistance when he took her hands for even more kisses. “I take back everything, shh….”

She kept hiccuping in hopes of steadying herself long enough to say what she had been wanting to say for too long.

“ Aafia—” “I want all of you.”

She wouldn’t wait for him. She grabbed him to press his face against her breast and hugged him as hard as she possibly could. She spoke through sharp gasps. “I want all of you, have wanted all of you, never to let you go, never leave you, the best and the worst of you. I love you, Talok ibn Balev.”

He was stiff and still. Then his arms wrapped around her. “Say it again.” “I love you.” “Tell me again.” “I love you.” “Bind me.”

While she dabbed her eyes and took deep breaths to center herself once more, he returned to the bed and re-secured the straps for his legs and harness. He luxuriated on the bed, waiting for her.

She slid herself onto the bed, perched at his side. Her hand traced along the imperfections on his chest with her fingertips, frustrated by the gossamer cloth which separated them. This time, she chose to bind him at the anchor points of the bedposts, his arms spread like a forked road.

She could hardly speak above a scratchy whisper. “Say it for me.”

He exhaled as if all the sorrow and pain he’d been keeping inside him for months left his body. What remained was a half-smile that was every bit a reflection of who she knew he was. “I love you, Aafia Jalal.”

She caressed his cheek with her knuckles. Unable to touch his skin, the hair’s width of cloth felt like the expanse of the Thar. She wanted to feel his flaws.

“ Kiss me. Please.”

Ah, for too long she had wanted this! Aafia draped herself over his chest, taking his face in her hands. At last, the consummation of the desire they had expressed that night in their office.

“ OW!” Aafia jerked away in shock. Plum-red blood on Talok’s lips and on his death-white teeth which his dark tongue hungrily licked up. The ferric taste was in her mouth. The straps stopped him from stealing another biting kiss.

_ Lightning _ .

The kiss was enough. A searing bolt straight to her brain and down her body and now Talok was haloed by a fire that gave no heat and made him ethereal, more than merely mortal.

The world was an ever-shifting painting as shadows turned to explosive neon colors and his desert-sand skin was soft and smooth like polished marble on the hottest day of the year and the kaleidoscopic room was infinite combination.

She grabbed the mandibular restraint and she was compelled to roughly push it into his mouth as the cherry-blood trickled down his mouth and the bodystocking was biting and biting into her skin and she was kicking it off with all of her might and sweat was flowing down her thighs and arms and breasts and hips and back.

A fist of his ocean-dark hair was in her hand and her knees were against the headboard and her thighs were at his ears and if she hesitated any longer to feel his lips against her mons she would surely go insane and it would kill her and now his hot tongue was twisting up as far as it could go as it meant to touch her very soul.

She was hanging on the headboard because it was her lifeline in a river of molten silver and wave after wave was crashing over her just like their first night and this time she felt the surge of passion she had tasted in their previous embrace before he left her but he came back he came back and he was here his lips and tongue against her soft delicate flesh hot coconut milk on her inner thighs and the bed was groaning or she was or he was the three of them becoming one new creature one beautiful creation of flesh and leather and metal made of bone-white mango-green and she was looking down to see the halo of fire turning into stripes and his guttural growls were hungry for her and his jaw was champing at the restraint and the click-click-click of his teeth demanding freedom and he butted against the curve of her public bone as if he were transforming into a tiger.

A quiet gasp pushed her above the molten river to find a moment of clarity. Shit, she  _ could  _ die here. The bed-frame hopped with a thud from him bucking against his restraints and his fingernails were leaving streaks down the bed-posts and Oh Shit she  _ could _ die here but she was alive and felt every inch of herself inside and out she was here and he was inside her and she felt him saying  _ Please want me, Please need me, Please love me _ and she happily fell back into the liquid gold and surely the holy fire of this angel in her bed would melt away every needle of pain that had been pushed into her heart for all these months.

_ I want you _

_ I need you _

_ I love you _


	24. Speak! O Dark Beloved!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter!

Say a word, say something

O my dark beloved!

Stir spring into my life!

O my dark beloved!

\--Shiv Kumar Batalvi

++++

Aafia, go to the bath No Talok I don’t Aafia please go No Talok I want to stay here with you

Aafia, go to the bath

“ Aafia, go to the bath,” he whispered, helping her from the bed of stars and solar flares. She was wobbly on her feet and the room was full of flowers that rustled in a nonexistent breeze. He pressed her close, petting the unraveled braid as they walked across the expanse of the room.

The sussuration of the bath filling was so comforting and she remembered that she felt like she had been working in the heat when the sun was at its highest. She kept a firm grip on his arm as she took her first step into the big basin. The cool water immediately put a shiver through her spine and she was awake and alert and so ready to fall right into the water.

As soon as she laid back into the water, Talok carefully lifted her up to lay her instead against the walls of the basin. He was in the water now and his skin was coruscating from the water-droplet-diamonds. She considered moving to embrace him but she was just so very comfortable where she was, the coolness of the ceramic tingling her skin. Her cheek pressed against the tiles outside the basin. The water smelled faintly of the beach.

“ We must go into the water everyday,” he murmured in her ear with a sweetness she didn’t deserve. He rested his cheek in her hair. “The blood-fever will kill you if we do not.”

Another shiver went up her spine. She only now noticed the thunder of her heart.

Talok had tied up the remains of her braid into a messy bun to keep it off her neck. There was a cup from somewhere, and he used it to slowly pour water over the parts of her that couldn’t be immersed. She kept her face pressed against the wonderfully cold tiles outside the bath, drinking in his tender touch.

Stillness. She felt his loving whispers. She wanted to build a house in this moment and make it her home.

She felt her skin cooling. A moment of clarity rose like a bubble.

She lifted her head up to see him. The bone-white mint-green restraints were on him. He lounged next to her, his skin looking the colors of Quetta’s cliffs in crepuscular light. This was a dream she would wake up from, she was certain. He wasn’t here in her bath, silently begging for her touch, confessing his love to her with his gaze.

Her hand found his, startled to find real flesh and not air or bed sheets. She brought his palm to her lips.

His eyes fluttered with each kiss, a low moan sticking in his throat. He braced against the wall of the basin with his free hand. He was inviting her to take control.

She kept her gaze on him locked. Her other hand disappeared below the surface. Her knuckles grazed against the harness. Her fingertips fell lower. Her hand wrapped around her prize.

The first joyful gasp, almost a yelp. His head lolled back. He exhaled as if all the air was leaving his lungs.

She wanted to watch him.

A few embers were appearing at his head as the fiery halo began to form. The water was turning to honey and the shine of the water was throwing stained glass against the ceiling. He twisted slowly toward her, effortlessly seducing her with his half-lidded eyes and soft lip-bite. Every kiss into his palm and along his wrist and along his fingers was answered with her name like a nightingale calling to its mate. The hunger deep inside her came back and the string between them was tugging, demanding her attention.

She set his palm against her waist and coax it to mold to her form. The shadows were midnight blue and dancing from the heat of their love. His skin was turning olive from passion. He was pulsing, throbbing, aching for release.

She pushed close to rake her teeth along his shoulder.

Watching was no longer enough.

++

The door chimed. Aafia hastily threw on her robe to answer.

“ Good morning!” said Hina brightly. “I was just following up on Talok’s request to check you on each day. How are you feeling?”

The air around Hina was shimmering. “Wonderful,” Aafia replied, only now noticing that her face was aching from how much she’d been smiling.

“ And you like the accommodations?” Her outfit seemed made out of a million delicate butterfly wings that were all carefully flexing.

“ Oh, oh yes, very much.” She couldn’t help fidgeting in place out of impatience to end the conversation.

“ Very good! Please call if you need anything at all.” As soon as Hina turned away, Aafia snapped the door shut. She had just started breakfast!

In the living room, the indigo curtains were thrown open to let in the beautiful spring morning. She slipped out of her robe in a single fluid motion before sitting down on her pillow.

Talok was in a low-plank position before her, his naked body creating a single straight line from the nape of his neck to the heels of his feet. She had found silk emerald ribbons to bind him, tying together his wrists and his ankles. She couldn’t remember how they had come to decide on this way to spend the morning, only that Talok had been so excited by the prospect he asked to make love to her that moment. However, she wanted her fruit first.

Along his back, her many plates of fruit: pomegranate seeds, blood oranges halves, mango slices, guava, dragonfruit cubes, lychee, peach pieces, figs, plums, dates—she couldn’t possibly finish all of it, but she didn’t care. She had been craving fruit all last night and decided that she would eat nothing but that today. If not to stuff one’s self silly with fruit, then what was the point of any vacation?

She picked up a cube of dragonfruit. “Would you care for a taste?”

He strained to look over his shoulder at her. “Yes, I would.”

She pulled back her hand.

He scoffed and raised an amorously sly brow only to pronounce the word defiantly. “Please.”

Simply the way his beautiful dark tongue reached for the fruit, she considered forgetting breakfast altogether.

Taking the orange half, she squeezed it hard until the cinnbar pulp mashed between her fingers and the juice squirted onto the small of his back. She giggled at the shudder of shock that rippled up his body, licking the pulp off her fingers.

A line of juice rolled down the cleave of his buttocks. He gave a high, halting moan.

She grabbed the dishes as quick as she could to toss on the nearest coffee table, juices and fruit spilling on the floor.

He arched his hips towards her with another, more lustful moan.

The juice was even sweeter when she lapped it off his skin.

++

The purple-green shadows of late afternoon gave them cover as they darted through back-alleys in a winding, zig-zagging route to find the beach. Between them, they had barely enough common sense to simply walk toward the smell of ocean but at least had remembered to bring drinking water. During the day, they had alternated between bickering and passionate proclamations of love; this made getting dressed a challenge, considering that the decision to visit the beach had occurred sometime in the morning.

He had insisted they covered everything but their eyes. What if people saw them? Of course, each shadow dashed into, they would pause as Talok suggested that they stay here and make love instead of finishing their journey—as if people wouldn’t see them doing that. Each time, she made the same promise: after the beach.

Twilight. They reached the sea cliffs, walking along the sand as one great mass toward the ruins of the cliffs from the tides carving them away. They stiffened at every person who passed them, not realizing that not a single person on the beach had any inkling of their current state.

Against anything resembling good judgment, they clambered over the rocks until they found a spit of beach hemmed in by boulders and more sea cliffs. Not another soul in sight.

She didn’t wait for him, yanking off the sweaty scarf from her face and thick hijab from her head, her hair tumbling out as she’d only bothered to twist it. She was shimmying out of everything as fast as she could like a snake shedding its skin until she could feel the sea-breeze along every inch of her, instantly cooling her. “Come on!”

She was already standing ankle-deep in the cold surf when he finally stripped himself down. He watched the tide pensively. “Come back,” he implored, “please, come back so I may make love to you.”

“ Come to me,” she commanded with a smile she knew would set his heart ablaze. She ventured closer to entice him.

Coaxing him into the water was a dance. Every time he stepped closer, he asked her to come back to shore, and she sweetly crooned that he must come into the water to find her, plying him with encouragement and every melody she could remember. His foot touched the water. He recoiled with a whiny shout. In the end, it was easier to just cheat and take his hand, dragging him along deeper and deeper into the crystal-clear waves.

He cursed savagely at the cold, instinctively trying to pull her close for her heat. They were up to their waists now, gently rocked by incoming waves, both shivering in what remained of the waning light. Already the moon was above them, a circle of faded white chalk. She roughly fell on him, rubbing one side of herself against his front for warmth.

He grabbed her close, anything to offset the cold. He also couldn’t help whispering, “Why don’t we make love here?”

She laughed and pushed him. “Stop! Not here!”

He went for her right side, out deeper in the water. “Why not?” he teased.

She couldn’t stop grinning as she splashed him. “You are out of control.”

He swiped for her wrist in the way one does when they don’t care whether or not they miss. “Am I?”

She swatted him away. “Someone needs to stop you.”

It was a game both immensely enjoyed; she continued thwarting him the way one does when their beloved cat tries to steal a piece of dinner while he would try to give her a gentle caress or amorous pinch. They followed the surf, more than once accidentally coming ashore before she dashed back into the water and coaxed him in once more.

The sea was liquid diamonds and the moon was glowing white cotton and both of them were so many shadows of green-blue. She stole kisses but never let him steal them back, and he rewarded her with his adoring smile.

Out of nowhere came a horrible blinding white light like a laser through the night. She shrank away as best she could, shielding her eyes. Where was it coming from?

A high, juvenile scream came. “ _ Shit, are those naked off-worlders?! _ ”

Talok scooped her up by her waist and tossed her over his shoulder. Another voice piped up. “ _ IMANI! GET A PICTURE!” _

Neither stop to hear the peal of laughter from, they learned much later, the group of teens who had gone to the beach because it was quiet and they wanted some seashells. She grabbed whatever she could of him to hang on as he bolted toward shore only to realize that they still had rocks to cross.

She shut her eyes the whole time, clinging to him for dear life and praying that he didn’t drop her.

He stopped suddenly to sling her off his shoulder. She held her breath.

Only when her bottom touched down on sand did she breathe again and open her eyes.

They were nose-to-nose, both panting from the exhilaration of being found and the danger of making their escape.

Not waiting to catch her breath, she grabbed his face for a gasping kiss. As soon as their lips touched, she freed up her hands to hold down his wrists.

He pulled away for air. “Make love to me,” he whispered. “Please. Aafia. Make love to me.”

The embers around his head, the start of his halo, were appearing. She drew them both up and marched him with resolution to a large slab-like boulder jutting from the ground. He inhaled sharply with delight when his back hit the stone.

Their clothes and things were still among the rocks. While he waited for her, she found his great shawl, iridescent as a peacock’s tail in the moonlight, and spread it out before his feet on the topaz sand. She found their water jugs and, in a fit of masterful common sense, dumped half of the water on him to rinse off the salts and the rest on herself even as the cold wind put shivers all through her body.

She knotted her hijab into cuffs for his wrists and fashioned his scarf into a collar with a leash. Each piece of clothing became reborn for its new purpose, and she marveled at her unexpected creativity of the way the cloth twisted around his limbs and snaked around the boulder itself.

She pressed against him, stroking the sandpaper-stubble of his chin. “You are out of control.” She removed one hand long enough to wet two fingers with the moisture of her body. “You need to be stopped.” She brought her fingers to his lips.

The moment he caught the scent, he struggled against his bonds. His dark tongue greedily reached for her fingers to bring them into his mouth, but she resisted. His gleaming white teeth snapped in frustration to not get what he wanted. He writhed and bucked in his attempt to take off the blindfold.

“ Control yourself,” she commanded with a purr.

With a growl, he settled down. She rewarded him with kisses along his ribs. “Very good,” she cooed.

He was raking his fingers against the boulder, the sounds of dust falling away with each motion. Every entranced moan went up to the heavens. “Make love to me,” he kept repeating breathlessly.

_ Want me, need me, love me _ echoed over and over inside her.

She took him in her mouth.

++

Aafia was awake but her eyes were stinging. Her eyes were stinging because it felt like someone was hammering inside her head. Someone was hammering in her head because...something….

She meant to call out for Talok but could only muster a pitiful groan. With all of the willpower she could muster, she rolled onto one side to reach for him and pull him into a tight snuggle before falling back asleep. She only found pillows.

“ Aafia, you are awake.” The sound of curtains closing. Her headache got slightly better, enough for her to try opening her eyes.

Talok, half-dressed, freshly showered and shaved, the serene blank expression on his face that she only now remembered what how she saw him all the time. But this time, it was jarring. His eyes were still so lively and expressive. She must have tried sitting up because he came over. “No, you must rest,” he said, setting her back down. “You are exhausted.”

She was naked, her hair was a mess, and she was tucked snugly into the bed with its many pillows and big puffy comforter. “What happened?” she managed, still squinting at him.

“The fever broke.” He joined her on the bed, lying on his side to face her. “You have fulfilled my invocation of our arrangement.”

She croaked again in her halfhearted attempt to reach out to him from under the comforter and sheet. “I have never felt this terrible in my life….”

“ That is why I will take care of you for the remainder of our vacation.” He pushed a few locks of her hair out of her face. “I suspect that you will regain your health completely before our return to Quetta.”

Her head was swimming. “How long...what we did...how long was that?”

The soft crease of his brow was both out of place and immensely comforting. “I apologize that I cannot be certain. I believe twelve days, possibly fourteen.”

Well no wonder she felt like she had been rolling down the back of a mountain like a log. “So.” She was finding new parts of herself that were hurting. How could her diaphragm be sore? “Are you...ah, satisfied?”

“ Yes.” Sage undertones came to his cheeks. “You were...satisfactory. I would even say...admirable.”

All thanks and praise belong to Allah. “So.” She squirmed her head around as she tried to find the words. “Are you…?” Somehow, it didn’t feel quite to even name what she wanted to ask. “No longer...illogical?”

Contemplation came over his face. “Your language is not adequate.” She knew that expression: looking for words he did not have. “I am in control. There is an after-effect. The after-effect will dissipate before we return to Quetta.” He seemed unsatisfied with what he said but also unable to find better words. “There is nothing else I need to ask of you.”

She saw the ugly scar on his forearm. “Oh no, did I give that to you?”

He glanced down and averted his eyes briefly. “No. That was the scar from where I removed my implant.”

Now the days were coming back. And all of it had been so exhilarating and erotic, she felt herself becoming aroused simply at the recollection. Her spirit was willing. But as for her flesh, any action was out of the question. She managed to find his hand. “...I still cannot believe you kept it to yourself instead of telling me.”

A slight tug at the corner of his mouth. “I did tell you. I told you in every way I knew how.”

“ ...No, that can’t be right. I would have noticed.” There was no way that she was so dense as to have not listened to him whenever they were together.

He began stroking her with his free hand along the crook of her neck. “Did I not tell you my people do not speak such things and learn to demonstrate? What do you think I was doing whenever I wore your name?” Only then did she remember their first dinner together.  _ You can call me Aafia. Like the color.  _ The soft crease of his brow must have come from how dumbfounded she must look now. “We ate from each other’s plates. I went with you to help you decide on a suitable apartment for you and Pava.” He sat up with an eye-crinkle of disbelief. “I took your hand in mine on multiple occasions.”

She could only grin up ruefully. “I thought this was how friendship work on your planet. And you were a father, so I thought you were treating me like one of your daughters.”

His eyebrows actually bolted so far up his forehead she wondered if they’d disappear into his hair. She had left him at a loss for words.

Despite the aching all over, she managed to prop herself up a little. “People here hold hands all the time and for any reason. And everything else you did—why would you not? You are my friend, after all.”

“ The engraving of my family.” He all but stumbled over his words. “The house I was building.”

Was it really necessary for him to fixate on this? “Talok, none of those struck me as romantic gestures.” She pressed a finger against his chest. “What about everything I did? I invited you to the art exhibits so our time together would be more than work, dinner, and sex!” She sneered but in a way that she hoped he knew she didn’t actually mean it. “I sent you to Homeworld! Sending you away was one of the hardest thing I ever did!” Saying out loud was embarrassing but necessary. “I thought you might forget me.”

“ I did try,” he offered softly. “You are very difficult to forget.”

The emphatic chirping of a bird was just outside their window; it must have landed on the sill. Mid-morning, she guessed. “What happens now?”

“ You are on bed rest for today. You need hydration, nutrients, and electrolytes. Tomorrow, we shall visit the doctor that our hosts have recommended. The rest of our stay in Gwadar will include walking for exercise but no great exertions. And you must eat a nutritious meal at least twice a day.”

She slowly, painfully, sat herself up. “I meant for us. Our agreement. Or whatever you want to call it.”

It was a long time before he answered. “I do not know,” he said quietly. Another bird joined the chirping outside their window. “During my time on this planet, I hear this notion of ‘falling into love’ as if it is an event outside of one’s control. I hear other ideas of love, but they are not like what is understood on my planet. On my planet, one ‘grows into love.’ The spouses chosen by our families are believed to be the best, and it is our duty to uncover what makes us compatible.” He was present but far away. “Our efforts were sincere, T’Pai and I. We thought that staying together would present more and more opportunities. I only know what to do when a union dissolves.”

Somehow, she knew. She always knew. She laid her hand over his. “I don’t know either.” She scooted close. “I think we are not qualified,” she continued with a playful smile. “We must train each other. And work together as where possible.”

He lightly rested his head against hers. “You should know. I understand it is customary here to proclaim one’s emotional bond to each other. But I cannot do that. It is not my people’s way.”

“ Then I will say ‘I love you’ twice as much. For both of us.”


	25. A Favor Asked But Not Condoned

Bow to the lover (Almighty) alone;  
Forget other concentrations;  
He alone is present in every form.  
There is no stranger in the land of love  
Every figure is the constituent of 'One' (creator in creation)  
\--Khwaja Ghulam Farid

++++ 

Pledging themselves to each other was one matter. 

Pledging themselves before everyone else on the project was another matter entirely. 

Was it necessary to spend the remainder of their holiday and the entire train ride back to Quetta talking in excruciating detail about every possible aspect of their new agreement, from where they may raise a child to whether it was appropriate for them to tell Kiran? Perhaps not. But after so many months of things left unsaid, she wanted to say everything. The level-headed disagreements and good-faith offers to reach a compromise were causing Aafia to fall in love with him all over again. 

However, the affectionate gestures she had long to give him in public could not be. She thought of her ancestors, hundreds of years ago, who would hardly so much as touch hands in public even after decades of marriage. It was not his people’s way, and to pledge herself to him meant respecting these boundaries. She was still learning and made mistakes often. Talok’s patience and gentle reminders, in a way, made her want to embraced him even more. 

Their first day back. Talok waited for her in the morning at the entrance to his building like he always did. His clothes were the shade of blue perfect for making the brown of his dark eyes so vibrant. She wore ochre and deep red. They walked in comfortable silence because, now, it was enough to simply be near each other. Her hand brushed his by accident. He lightly caught her index-finger and curled it carefully around his own. For a moment, she thought she might burst into tears from happiness. 

The fingers disentangled when they first sighted the new updated diplomatic building. They should tell Kiran before doing any work. They expected another normal day of being the first ones on site. Instead, all of the consul staff were already in their offices with their outer doors opens and staffers chatting through open windows or loitering in the portico. Staffers sighted them and dropped all conversation to turn around and greet them with an off-putting enthusiasm. “Oh! Both of you came back!” “A very good holiday, I hope!” “A relaxing time?” Their tones ranged from salacious to over-eager. Even the Vulcans, who said nothing, still gave Aafia a queer, unreadable look as they passed. 

By the time they arrived in front of Kiran’s office door, a dull roar of questions was pelting them. She didn’t even have time to ask Talok what was going on before Ianiot was jogging toward them from his office, Holloya and Mwit at the doorway to their own offices and popping their heads out to watch. “Oh! I am so happy for both of you!” exclaimed the Deltan consul. 

Talok responded before she could. “I do not follow.” 

Ianiot beamed with joy. “You work so well as project leads, it was only a matter of time before you became life-partners.” He clasped his manicured hands together. “Talok, I know your people do not consider emotions in your logic, and I am so pleased that you can see the logic in joining yourself to Dr. Jalal.” 

Aafia didn’t realize she cut off Talok as she blurted out, “Does everyone know?” 

Instantly, half of the people along the portico erupted into gleeful chatter while the other half grumbled darkly. Somewhere she heard Holloya’s shrill voice, “I won the bet, Gangless!” Ianiot’s pale face made the rosy blush of his cheeks stand out. “You should congratulate yourselves. Before taking your trip to Gwadar, none of us truly suspected.” He added giddily, “That is not entirely true. I was the first to tell my superior you were sexually involved but as you know, my people consider it part of good collaborative relationships.” 

Kiran’s voice came from inside his office. “Oh good, you both are here.” She didn’t expect those words to make her heart jump into her throat. 

He leaned casually in the doorway of his office, arms folded like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Huh.” A few people further back into the office were angling to see them without leaving their desks. “How was your time in Gwadar?” 

She tugged at her sleeve, putting on nervous grin. “Oh, it was wonderful!” She already knew where this was going. But why would Kiran be mad at them? 

“Did you hear about the monster they found near the shore?” 

Where was he going with this question? “No, I, I don’t remember anything about it.” 

Kiran pulled out a tablet from under his arm. “A few teenagers saw it run away,” he said, Aafia only able to see his lazy fluid motions as he flicked through whatever else was on the tablet, “but they did get this one image.” He presented the tablet with the image in question.

Nighttime at the beach. She now knew Talok’s backside very well. Him mid-sprint, water droplets flying off him, his feet kicking up sand. Her slung around his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, black wet hair smacking against the side of his thigh, free hand reaching for some other part of him to grab. In the background, the pile of rocks on the shore. Seeing him in such an undignified position, she couldn’t help swooning over the memory of that night. 

Instead of answering, she looked to Talok for an answer. Unfortunately, he had been stunned into silence. 

When she looked back to Kiran, one hand was on his face and badly stifling his giggles. A peal of laughter came from further back in the office area, and Utyra emerged cackling with glee. 

Aafia wanted to scold them but even saying “All of you are terrible!” did not have the bite as she started giggling herself. Talok kept his eyes downcast and for a moment, she worried that this had been a great offense. But she looked closer and saw the slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth. 

Eventually, Kiran found his breath after a single short howl. “Alright, alright, get out of here!” he said, shooing the Risian consul out of his office. He took back the tablet, smirking. “I am sorry. Let me explain. Once we figured out what your plan was, we sent a couple staff to Gwadar for you, Aafia. The end of a Vulcan ‘cycle’ can be intense, and we wanted to know you were doing well. That picture ended up in the ‘Spring Follies’ section of the news.” He shook his head, another chuckle bubbling up. “We decided that there was no reason for us to interrupt.” 

“A wise decision,” said Talok. “It is why we are here to speak with you.”

Kiran waved away the comment. “As far as the consuls and I are concerned, this has no bearing on the project. I am still impressed that you both kept your plans a secret as long as you did with so many telepaths around. In fact, both of you did so much to prepare that the project runs itself now.” 

Aafia perked up. “Oh, thank you, Kiran. We thought it was important to be honest.” She bowed slightly, overly formal between the two of them but it just felt right. “Thank you so much.” 

“Of course!” He straightened up to return the bow. She never expected everyone to be so happy for them. “It isn’t like you plan on starting a family right away, right?” 

She couldn’t help looking over at Talok instead of Kiran.

His expression dropped. “You won’t....Right?” 

Grabbing Talok’s sleeve, she hurried back down the portico which was now thankfully vacated. “We still have to talk to Koss, but we can talk later, Kiran!” 

Kiran followed them. “No! The project is still in a critical stage! We need you!” 

They were already outside the Vulcan consulate. “You said the project ran itself!”

“That is not the point!” She heard his last waiting plea down the portico before they ducked inside the consulate: “Don’t leave me!” 

In the consulate, Aafia got her first glimpse of Talok’s months of hard work. She walked on polished black stone floors and saw tall, broad mahogany shelves of everything the staff would need like tablets and printed books pressed flush against the sandstone walls. He had knocked out every interior wall to create a single open space where staffers had arranged their workstations. Various pieces of pottery were arranged as part of some aesthetic theory that she could not decipher. The entire back wall had been turned into a rose-tinted window with numerous thin, smoky quartz-colored panels which folded down from the ceiling to adjust the lighting within. From the ceiling hung russet, tube-like fixtures which also cast a rose-colored light. The doors to various parts of the consulate such as the toilet or skiff or so-called ‘leisure area’ were behind elegantly-carved fawn doors. His masterwork was the second floor he had added to the building; the lift and gently spiraling burnet stairs were next to the front door. For the first time, she heard the staffers talk at length in their mother-tongue. It was beautiful and unlike anything she had encountered in her life. How did the other consulates sound? Why hadn’t she taken any time to learn their languages? 

In the pink light, Talok’s clothes looked like a fresh bruise and his skin was like autumn leaves; she was seeing him as he would appear on Homeworld. It felt more intimate than anything else they had shared up to that moment. The look on his face as he surveyed the room was the one he wore when looking upon his youngest daughter. He was at the bottom of the steps, offering his elbow to her. 

She ran her hand along the smooth brown railing as they walked. The second level was empty of all furniture, waiting for the new staffers who would eventually come with its tubular light fixtures and mirror-like floor. Alone with him here in the red light, her brain gave her a fleeting peek back at the angel she had seen when they consummated their love. She closed her hands into fists to stop from caressing his face. 

Talok’s fingers ran down her wrist to coax her hand open, and her heart fluttered as he led her into the one public display of love his people would not reject: their index and middle fingers held high, like two pairs of lips, tenderly pressed against each other. She walked five centimeters off the ground into Koss’ office. 

Nearly everything in Koss’ office set flush against the wall with the exception of the low table at which he knelt, the table recessed toward the back of the room. Carpets and flat Balochi pillows were neatly arranged on the floor to delineate a sitting area. Fine ceramics and pottery stood in the four corners of the room. Without a word, Talok seated both of them on the pillows. Their paired fingers never separated. 

Koss set down his work and joined them. “Master Architect, you return.” The consul spoke their shared language as a courtesy to Aafia.

“My blood has cooled. The Fires no longer consume me.” 

She could detect suppressed disappointment in Koss’ voice. “Am I to understand that you and Dr. Jalal are now bonded mates?” 

“Yes. She will join me on Homeworld when the project ends.” All the times he spoke as if his words were self-evident and immutable truth, hearing him do the same made her head feel light with elation. Only now did she realize her worry: the possibility he would be ashamed of falling in love with her. 

If Koss had anything to say, he kept that opinion to himself. “Dr. Jalal, I will assist you in becoming a resident of Vulcan when the time is appropriate. As a citizen of a Federation planet, you have freedom of movement and relocation between all participating worlds. You may also become a recognized citizen of Vulcan society without relinquishing your ties to Earth.” 

She pressed her joined fingers harder against Talok’s as she couldn’t squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” Her neck and face were growing hot. “We would also like to contact the doctor who cares for the ambassador’s son.” 

Koss furrowed his brow. “I do not understand. For what reason?” 

She had practiced the words with him. If she said it out loud, it would be real. She knew the consul had spoken with Talok multiple times to dissuade him from pursuing a human. She knew whatever she asked, he would not be sympathetic. She knew he would use logic to tell her why her heart was wrong. But then she felt Talok’s fingers slide to her palm, and his hand embraced hers. 

She exhaled a deep breath. “We intend to have a child together.” 

Koss’ expression became neutral. “I advise that you reconsider this decision.” 

She squeezed Talok’s hand and felt him gently return the squeeze. “We want to speak with a doctor first. A specialist. Someone...who could help us.” 

“Dr. Jalal, I realize that you are emotional now—”

“Koss, stop.” She let go of Talok to press her palms to her face. She needed clarity. “Please. Wait.”

She took every moment she needed to quiet her mind, no matter how long she kept them waiting. When she looked up once more, she faced Koss but focused her eyes on an ornate quartz wall-hanging behind the consul. Her body was calm. “Because of Talok, I have learned a kind of patience and restrain that I could not without him. Humans cannot perceive our souls, yet I am confident mine exists when I am near him.” She thought about their night at the little house Talok was still building in the mountains. “If the desire for offspring is an immutable biological urge, then why is it illogical for me to want the father of my child to be the one who has improved my character in ways I never could on my own?”

Only now able to look at him, she saw that Koss had tilted his head down in contemplation. 

She no longer needed Talok’s hand for comfort. 

At last, Koss spoke. “I still advise against this decision, and I do not condone it.” He seemed to be formulating his words as he spoke. “However. I recognize that my underlying logic for my position may not be sound. Master Architect, you have fathered three children, and one of them has given you a grandchild. Your need has been satisfied. Hers has not. Could Dr. Jalal not select an acceptable human instead? You could assist in raising her child together on Homeworld.”

Her heart smiled at Talok’s reply: “I discussed this option at length with Dr. Jalal. Her logic ultimately persuaded me that this was not tenable.” 

“And her logic?”

“A human child living on Vulcan will not flourish.” 

“And why is she certain that a hybrid child would?” 

“The ambassador’s son, an accomplished diplomat in his own right, who spent his whole life on Homeworld and who has been given the honor of representing our people to other worlds.” 

Koss fell into silent deliberation once more. 

Talok rested his hand on her elbow. She moved toward his touch. 

“Dr. Jalal. My own knowledge of human biology is incomplete. However, I infer from my current knowledge that this decision takes on a great risk with your body. It is also a risk to the resulting child.” 

“I know.” 

“What will you do if your body is greatly injured or the resulting child is not viable?” 

“I have no choice but to face the consequences of my decisions, however painful they are. Fear of the unknown is not a sound logical basis for decision-making.” 

And yet again, Koss retreated into his mind. 

She felt Talok’s fingers find the crook of her elbow. 

“No argument I give will dissuade you from this course of action, Dr. Jalal.”

“No.” 

Koss touched his thumb to his chin, the soft crease returning to his brow. “On Homeworld, a core concept of our philosophy is ‘infinite diversity in infinite combinations.’” She realized that he was speaking from his heart out of deep respect for both of them. “I believe that I did not truly understand this concept until I left Homeworld to serve our ambassadors. My time with the consuls and Director Shah have taught me this fact. I could not achieve a greater depth of understanding of my own culture without these relationships. I believe that the time I would need to truly grasp the concept is several lifetimes. Therefore, while I do not condone your decisions, I cannot dismiss this philosophy. I find dissonance. I object, and yet I cannot find logic in preventing from your goal.” 

A small change in his expression was all Aafia needed to know he had made his decision. “The doctor caring for the ambassador’s son is not the specialist that you need. I will personally search on your behalf for a specialist. If they are on Homeworld, I will persuade them to come to Earth.” 

She had won. “Thank you—”

“Dr. Jalal. I cannot stop them from refusing your requests.” 

“...I know.”


End file.
